


The Mixtape In Your Heart

by Lady Belarvs (fightthosefairies)



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes (2009) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthosefairies/pseuds/Lady%20Belarvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert and Jude each get a copy of a new script and somebody thinks they'd be perfect for it, but can they put their history behind them so they can make it work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> RDJGQMF, Jude, Mrs. Downey and all the kids own themselves (same thing goes for Rose Troche, Joel Silver and others mentioned) - Marni and Christian are fictional but I'm sure they've got their real-life counterparts out there, somehow.

* * *

_"I think my best trick is that, y'know, that I'm essentially a really loving and devoted person..."[RDJ, **The View**](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fM0JU5hGYW4")_

 _"How we complicate a simple mistake / it's the face you make when I go..." Scarling, "City Noise"_

* * *

The script was sitting there, waiting for him on his desk when he arrived at the Team Downey offices. There was a bright purple post-it stuck to the front. It read: "Check this out, Rob – read it start to finish! Don't call me until you have! I think you and Jude would be great for this! Just do it! – Joel"

There, at the bottom of the scribbled note, was Joel's telephone number. Robert felt his eyebrows begin a steady ascent as he peeled away the post-it hiding a good portion of the script's title page.

"Backpedaling", read the page, an original screenplay written by Rose Troche. Most of her work (from what Robert could recall) had been strictly indie outlaw type of shit, but Robert could remember Rose as having a lot of juice. Very well-respected in the industry. He'd never worked with her, but already, the idea of doing so appealed to him tremendously. Especially if it meant that he would get to spend more time with Jude.

Intrigued, he set the post-it aside and flipped to the first page.

* * *

"Jude? I've left your post on the counter, okay? I'll be back in twenty – I'm gonna go pick up your suits from the dry-cleaners," Marni announced as she headed for the front door, keys already jingling in her hand.

Jude, for his part, was tromping down the stairs, still half asleep and in his robe, scratching at his rumpled hair. "Right. Thanks, darlin'," he said, muffling a yawn. He gave Marni a quick, grateful smile and wave as she left and Jude ambled his way into the kitchen.

Biting into an apple, he found a large manila envelope resting beneath a pile of otherwise uninteresting mail. Bills, party invitations Marni would need to RSVP for him, some catalogs. It was all one big tease, just to get to that envelope. It was thick and envelopes that thick usually meant one thing: someone had forwarded a script to him that was worth looking at. Grinning to himself, he tore into the envelope and upended it, sending the script sliding out onto the marble counter top. Another bite of his apple and he then set it aside, wiping his hands off on his robe before picking up the script again.

There was a bright purple post-it affixed to the front of this script as well.

"You and Robert would be good in this. Read it and get back to me! – Joel", the note read.

Face twisting into a lopsided smile when his eyes caught on Robert's name, Jude pulled the post-it off and eased himself up onto a stool. He hunkered down, staring at the title page of the script as it lay on the kitchen counter, chin resting on his fists as he considered the title. The screenwriter's name sounded vaguely familiar, but if Joel thought this would be something that he and Robert could work on together, it was definitely worth at least one read-through.

Jude took a deep breath and dove in.

* * *

Robert had torn through the first forty pages of the script in less than an hour. He still had a ways to go, but it felt like each page was getting flipped even faster than the last one. He usually didn't even read beyond the title, the name of the director attached and – maybe, once in a great while – the first ten pages. He had a sneaking suspicion he was not only going to read the whole script, this time, he was going to re-read it as soon as he finished.

"Hey, boss?" Christian knocked on the door jamb. He was a youngin' – barely 25 – and clad in a pair of jeans and a black 'Team Downey' t-shirt. One of the _many_ designs the little elves in the art department had been fiddling around with up in their fancy art offices: the words 'Team Downey' were spelled out in red Stark Industries-style font splashed across the front. "You okay in here? You've been … really quiet."

"Yeah, yeah... I'm cool," Robert said, absently waving off Christian's concern, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he flipped to the next page in the script.

"Sure you don't need anything?" Christian pressed, shifting uneasily in the doorway. "You want me to run out and grab you something to eat?"

Sighing a bit under his breath, Robert lowered the script and peered over at him. "Uhh. Wait, what time is it?"

"It's almost five. You've been in here for a while," Christian said, holding up his hand and turning his wrist out to flash his watch at Robert.

"Shit. Umm. Okay, look, send Nicki out – get everybody burgers and pizza for lunch. My usual, too, okay?" Robert said, thumb and forefinger slipping beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"Cool," Christian said with a grin. His eyes drifted down to the script and he aimed a curious look at Robert. "That must be one hell of a script, to keep you busy this long."

"Uhh... yeah, it – it's … it's somethin'," Robert frowned a bit as he glanced back at the script he still clutched in his hand.

Christian couldn't decide if that was a good "it's somethin'" or a bad "it's somethin'", so he just left it at that. "Okay, well, I'll go get together with Nicki and get lunch sorted out. Be back in a little while, okay? Buzz Diane if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah – good, thanks," Robert mumbled, mostly to himself, eyes flicking from left to right as his eyes quickly skimmed over the words printed on the page.

* * *

Jude had read through the script three times and was on his fourth – he'd carried the thing to bed with him and had fallen asleep reading it – when the phone rang. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise in the quiet of his bedroom, heart trip-hammering in his chest, but he soon realized where the sound was coming from and leaned over to retrieve the phone. A smile immediately found its way to his lips when he saw the number and name showing on the caller ID and he pushed the 'talk' button, fitting the receiver between his shoulder and jaw. "Hey," he said warmly, free hand reaching for the script where it had fallen from his sleep-limp fingers the night before.

"Hey, yourself," Robert said, his tone filled with its usual unmistakable clowny brusqueness. "What are you doing?"

"I was just – I was just looking at this script. Joel had it couriered over yesterday," he said as he glanced at the clock. He peered at the script in his hand and shook his head – had he really fallen asleep reading it? That was a new one on him; he'd read hundreds of scripts, but this was the first time he'd ever been so engrossed with one that he kept reading it until he passed out.

"Yeah! I got one, too. What the fuck?" Robert blurted, as if he'd been waiting for Jude to say those very words. Knowing him, he probably had been. There was a suspiciously long pause. "So, did you read it?"

"… yeah," Jude said after a moment – a delicate pause of his own inserted there. "Did you?"

"Yeah. So... what do you think?" He asked and Jude could picture the irrepressible, impatient expression on Robert's face as he said those words.

"Well... I don't know the screenwriter, but –" Jude began, flipping back to the first page.

"Look. Forget the screenwriter. I've heard about her before – she's totally cool. What do you think about, y'know, the _story_?" He insisted.

"I – I think it's bloody superb," Jude said at last. "What about you?"

"I think it's good," he said. "Yeah. I think Joel sure as fuck caught the lightning bugs in the jar this time, man. For real."

"Don't you mean lightning in a bottle?" Jude asked, a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.

"C'mon, dude! You know what the fuck I'm talking about," Robert muttered. Jude could hear the light slap! sound of the script landing on a flat surface. Another, softer sound – Robert jabbing his finger decisively on the desk. "This. Could. Rock."

"Well. It wouldn't be the first time for me –"

"Or me, for that matter," Robert finished the thought for him.

"But do you really think it could work?" Jude hedged, biting his lip.

"We could make it work. You and me? I know we could make it work, Jude," he said with his usual platinum-plated confidence. "You've done this kind of slice-of-life, cinema verite type stuff before, right?"

"Yeah. I have," Jude agreed.

"Right! So what if I haven't done that much of it. Who cares? You can teach me. You can be my si-fu on this one, dude. You _can_!"

The reference to Robert's disciplined study of Wing Chun made Jude chuckle in spite of himself – well, that and the notion of _him_ being able to teach Robert Downey Jr. even the single tiniest thing about acting.

Before he had a chance to respond, Robert spoke again. "So how many times have you read it?"

Jude pursed his lips. "I've lost count," he admitted. "Maybe four or five? I'm at that scene in the elevator. You?"

"Going on number six, here," Robert replied. "See, man? This is what I'm talking about. I _never_ read –"

"You _never_ read scripts!" Jude said, voice overlapping Robert's, his surprise obvious in the way he blurted out the words.

"Right," Robert chuckled. "But this is what I'm talking about, Jude. Between the two of us, we've read this thing at least ten times, front to back. We wouldn't do that unless we had some kind of subconscious thing telling us that there was something to this. I mean, right? Tell me what's going on under that artfully tousled curly hair of yours. I wanna know what you really think."

Jude grinned but it was a short-lived thing. "I don't know. I guess I just can't help but think... maybe this particular slice of life is cutting a little too close to home, you know?" He said, voice coming out hushed.

There was a long pause on Robert's end. "Yeah. I know," he murmured. "But this doesn't have to be about that. If we don't want it to be, it doesn't have to be. Okay? We can just make this Butch and Sundance, at it again – you know, together. Just... different!"

There were some strange sounds coming through on the line – tinkly musical noises, like a music box attempting to play the first few notes of the Sherlock Holmes theme Hans Zimmer had composed. Robert was probably fiddling around with the tiny toy grand piano the team had gotten him for his last birthday; it sat in a place of honor on his desk while the rest of his shiny awards and plaques and other accolades were boxed up somewhere in the storage room.

"At it. Yeah. That's the part that's got me uneasy," Jude said ruefully.

"I know. But – I just – look, okay, I miss you, too, and I just – rrrrgh," he growled, fingers gripping a handful of his hair. A purposeful sigh. Then, quieter, "I just miss you, man. This doesn't have to be about that. I just – I just wanna see you again. I know we said what we said to the reporters and all that, and that's totally cool, but I don't want the only time I see you to be when we're doing another Sherlock sequel. If we had to rely on those to keep this thing going, it'd be like the Friday the 13th movies, y'know? Just this never-ending string of sequel after sequel with each one becoming progressively more far-fetched than the last. Sherlock and Watson in space in the future or some daffy horseshit."

Jude laughed, already feeling a part of himself starting to cave at Robert's entreaties. Sighing, he rested his chin in the palm of his free hand, eyes reading and re-reading the title page.

"I wanna do this with you," Robert said, voice gravelly, determined. "I think – no, I _know_ we could give 'em something nobody's ever seen before. I know it sounds corny as shit, but damn, man – how many times does the universe throw something like this in your lap, you know what I mean?" Jude hesitated, mouth opening to give voice to more half-hearted uncertainty, when Robert spoke again. "Will you do this with me? Please? I won't say yes to this unless I know you're on board. I don't care _how_ fucking blow-my-mind-and-shit-my-shorts-kickass the script is. I won't do it without you."

Jude sighed, fighting a smile even as he shook his head at himself. "Do you want to call Joel or shall I?"

* * *

 **March 1, 2011 – Breaking News!  
Los Angeles, CA**

 **Director Rose Troche has been taking it easy since her executive producer/writer/director gig on Showtime's _The L Word_ came to an end, but things are about to get extra busy for this gifted auteur. She hasn't even started principal photography on it, yet, but her next project is generating an unprecedented amount of buzz already.**

 **Representation for both Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law have confirmed the rumors about their next movie together and here's a surprise: it has nothing to do with catching criminals! This time, they're co-starring in a film with the mysterious working title " _Backpedaling_ " – a screenplay written by Troche herself – about a divorced accountant and an unassuming artist who have a a chance meeting at a loft party in New York City, which leads to a torrid affair between the two men! Rose is keeping her lips sealed about the rest of the story, but is quoted as saying that Robert and Jude were at the top of her list for the two challenging lead roles. "I saw them presenting together at the Oscars in February," Troche confides, "and something just clicked for me. The way they work together – not just at the Oscars, but in interviews and as Holmes and Watson in Guy [Ritchie]'s _Sherlock Holmes_ – I knew these guys would be the ones to help Sam and Jamie come to life on screen. They were my first and only choices to play these two guys and they said yes. How cool is that?"**

 **Troche says that she'll be getting together in an undisclosed space on location in New York three weeks prior to the shoot for rehearsals with her cast. Until then, we're all in the dark about what sounds like is going to be a very sexy picture! More on this story as it develops, but keep your eyes peeled – this one's got 'going to win every award out there' all over it. You heard it here first!**

* * *

"So where are you?" Robert tried not to fidget in his seat. Really, he tried. But he had to keep an eye out for Jude, just in case he met him halfway at the doors, didn't he? He shifted in his seat again, ducking his head down and peering through the town-car's darkly tinted windows.

Robert's question – a very serious one, he thought – was met with a chuckle. "I just got off the plane. As you already know," Jude replied evenly. "I've got my bags. Where are you? Outside?"

"I will be. In about … ffffive minutes," Robert admitted, launching himself forward in his seat to knock at the dividing window as they approached the Virgin check-in station. The driver thankfully took the hint and eased the car into the red zone by the curb. As Robert hopped out of the car, he glanced over the hood of the car, seeing that the driver had also stepped out. "Pop the hood, chief. I'll be quick."

"Sorry?" Jude's voice cracked a little as he asked the question, sounding amused and baffled all at the same time.

"No, no – it's – gah, nevermind. I'm talking to the driver," Robert shut his door and hurriedly stepped up onto the curb, bound for the automatic doors. "Okay, hold on. I'll be right there." Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw sunlight glinting off of a camera lens and his shoulders tensed. Fucking paparazzi. They knew everything at all times, didn't they? "Which terminal are you coming out of? Can you see?"

"Ummm... four? It's four. Gate fifteen, I think."

Robert glanced up to the signs, a multitude of different arrows – all different colors and labeled with all the various terminals and airports, all pointing in different directions – and his feet immediately followed the direction the red Virgin arrow was pointing. "Oh, wait – here, I got it." His heart was thumping hard in his chest and all he could think was how happy his Si-fu Eric would be that he'd gotten some extra cardio in today – though, probably not in the way his trainer would have expected.

"Christ, it's packed, this, isn't it? Can you see?" Jude was grumbling.

Turning a corner, his breath caught as he spied the bank of metal detectors and X-Ray machines – the final ones before all weary travelers were free to go on their merry ways home, fingers tightening on his Blackberry reflexively. There were literally hundreds of people bustling their ways towards and through the detectors and Robert found himself squinting – trying to pick out that familiar head of honey-blond hair.

"Okay, I'm here. Shit, yeah, it's nuts," he replied absently, biting his lip. He was so distracted in searching for Jude, he almost missed the sound of the shutter going off. Almost.

Amidst the huddle of people funneling towards the detectors, a bit of movement caught his eye and Robert grinned broadly as his eyes tracked it, spotting Jude in the crowd. Phone to his ear, Jude was holding up one hand, a matching smile on his face.

It seemed to take years for him to finally get up to and through the metal detector. As soon as he did, Jude collected his rolling carry-on and backpack from one large basket and the contents of his pockets from a tray sitting just beside it as they came off of the X-ray's conveyor and made a beeline for Robert.

Robert hung up on his end, shoving his phone into his pocket and Jude slipped his own phone into his back pocket, his free arm held out in preparation. Robert stepped forward, arms immediately going around Jude's ribcage, squeezing tight, chin hooking over his shoulder as he embraced his friend. Jude's hand settled on Robert's back, clutching at the soft but blindingly purple hoodie he was wearing, holding his friend back as best he could with just one arm.

"Hey," Robert whispered, laughing as his hand rubbed up and down over Jude's back. Already, his face was hurting from smiling and yet he couldn't make himself stop. "I missed you, man."

"Me, too," Jude murmured, hand straying up to cup the back of Robert's head. "You look gorgeous."

"Oh, god, save it," he grumbled as he drew back, right hand cupping Jude's cheek as he looked up at Jude. "Look at you! Ten hour flight and you look like you're just getting back from the spa. You make me sick. No, seriously, you do."

"Thanks for coming to pick me up. You didn't have to," Jude replied as he and Robert started towards the exit. It was then that they noticed the paparazzi had clustered a few feet away, snapping pictures like Kodak had just announced they were no longer going to be manufacturing film.

"Hey, what can I say? It's my city. I'm just doing my part to be appropriately welcoming," he said with a flap of his hand. "So, are you starving? I'm starving. We should eat."

"All I ask is that it has chairs and somewhere we can smoke. That's all I care about, right now. I'm knackered," Jude sighed as he slipped his arm around Robert's waist, leaning into the solid support of Robert's body.

"I know _just_ the greasy spoon. Everything on the menu is _terrible_ , _but_ they do have chairs and they don't give a shit if you do lines right on the fucking counter," he quipped. Catching the look Jude was giving him, he held up his free hand. "Not that... I would know. Anymore."

The automatic doors swept open and Robert hooked his arm around Jude's shoulders, guiding him over to where the car was waiting. "Is that really all the stuff you brought? God, I don't know how you do it, dude."

"I didn't pack my collar and cuffs, no," Jude said with a smirk as he circled around to the back of the car and tossed in his carry-on and his shoulder bag.

"Aww, you didn't bring that awesome coat? You know, that navy blue uniform thing? With the pleated stuff all over the front? I love that coat," Robert grumbled, making a grand show of pouting.

Jude could only chuckle as he hopped into the back seat with Robert, letting out an almighty groan as he stretched his legs out in front of him. Regardless of what the commercials said, no regular airplane ever had enough room for someone with legs as long as his. He let his head fall back onto the leather upholstered seat and, inexorably, he let it roll to one side to look over at Robert. He was twisted about, one knee bent and resting on the seat, his arm stretched along the back of the window, a broad smile shaping his lips.

"You look good," Robert said, his soft pronouncement belying the exhilarated smile on his face. He let his hand settle on the top of Jude's head, resting there gently. "It's so good to see you."

"You, as well," Jude replied in kind, eyes shining as he looked up at Robert.

"So did you bring your script?" Robert asked, eyes narrowing at him.

"Ohh, Robert, look –"

"Now, now, don't play coy. I know you've got it. I _bet_ it's in your bag and I bet you were reading it the whole flight over, weren't you?" He teased, the corners of his eyes creasing as he snickered. "Hey, no, it's cool. Check it out." Leaning over, Robert reached into the black leather bag he'd brought with him, pulling out his own dog-eared copy of the script. It had been rolled, looked crumpled up as though it had been slept on and then smoothed out again, and the pages flapped apart, revealing copious notes in Robert's lackadaisical scrawl in red and black ink pen. "I showed you mine. Show me yours. C'mon."

Jude sighed. "All right," he said, grimacing a little as he sat up and opened up his backpack, pulling out a similarly abused copy of the script. He flopped back into the seat again, tossing the script onto the seat between them where it landed next to Robert's.

The two of them looked up at the same moment, eyes meeting, and laughed. "Gah. We're a pair, aren't we?" Robert murmured, shaking his head.

"Indeed," Jude agreed with a tired, but fond smile. "We can start in the morning. Promise."

"Cool," he said, hand lightly settling on the crown of his head once more, his palm warm, the touch leaving Jude feeling as though he was being pulled in two different directions.

* * *

November – 2009

Jude was sound asleep, stretched out on his stomach, when he felt that touch to his hair. Not stroking so much as just one warm hand settling on the back of his head and resting there – a single, constant touch. He drifted up out of his subconsciousness's picture show, cracking one eye open to find Robert sitting there. He was dressed, though he was hardly his usual, impeccable self – his tie still dangled, untied, around his neck, the top buttons of his dress shirt had yet to be buttoned, his hair messily finger-combed back into some vague, squinty semblance of its original, painstakingly groomed style. His dark eyes were gleaming with fondness, but also something else.

"There he is," Robert whispered, his hand sliding down along the back of Jude's neck, palm coming to rest between his shoulder blades. He leaned forward, ducking his head for, lips pressing a lingering kiss to Jude's shoulder. He sat up again, just staring at him, shaking his head ever so slightly as he reached out, the backs of his fingers caressing Jude's cheek. "Wow. No wonder everybody's in love with you. Just look at you. _Jesus_."

A bashful smile barely turning up the corners of his mouth, Jude slowly, sleepily shifted position until he was on his back, Robert's hand lifting from his skin until he had settled again. Once he had, Robert rested his hand on Jude's chest, just over his heart.

The two of them stared at each other. With each second that ticked by, the light in Robert's eyes shifted, the maelstrom of emotions swirling that much more intensely.

"Jesus," Robert said again, even softer, breath catching on the word, making the word fracture as it left his throat, like a shuttle breaking up on re-entry. He ducked his head, eyes dropping away from Jude's, severing the connection, and his shoulders slumped – the change was almost imperceptible, but it was there. "I love Susan. Very much. I know that sounds like a seriously fucking unwieldy non-sequitur right now, considering what we did tonight – while, at the same time, both sort of pathetic and self-sabotaging, like some kind of bullshit excuse or justification or something so I can just explain it all away while I run out the door, but I –"

"No, I know," Jude said, head shifting on the pillow to get a better look at Robert's face. It was still mostly dark behind the hotel room's drawn curtains; even though the bathroom light down the hall was on, the shadows weren't catching the contours of Robert's face in just the right way, making it difficult to focus. He reached down, hand settling atop Robert's own, thumb smoothing back and forth over his skin. "I understand."

"People don't _get_ this lucky in one lifetime," Robert began, the words coaxing a soft chuckle from Jude. In spite of his seriousness, Robert's lips still quirked in a wry grin at that, even if it was only for just a moment. "You know what I mean. Forget cats – I'm the one who keeps popping up again and again, no matter how many times the truck runs me over. I just – I'm so... grateful. You know?"

"She loves you a lot," he murmured in agreement, casting his eyes up and letting them roam over the smooth and flawless ceiling. It didn't sting like he'd thought it would, talking about Susan that way – because it was true: Robert and Susan were very deeply in love with each other – she was a great woman. Even Jude couldn't deny he loved the way that Robert's love for Susan flipped some buried switch somewhere down inside the man and made the dazzling light there that much brighter. Blinding. It was that light that made his chest feel like there was a bucket full of cannonballs sitting on it.

"I'm not just talking about her," Robert said immediately, softly, surprising Jude. When Jude's gaze slid back down again, he found Robert gazing at him. Steady, calm. _Certain_. His lips pursed and he gave a slight shake of his head. "Why did the universe have to take its sweet, candy-ass time sending you my way? Huh? Why did it do that?"

"I dunno," he sighed, slipping his free hand underneath his pillow, propping his head up a bit. "Shit sense of humor?"

"Yeah... maybe," Robert agreed, eyes lowering to where his hand rested on Jude's chest. The next words were spoken with almost tangible regret, but with a forced smile. "I have to go."

"Yeah," he said, looking up just in time for Robert's lips to come pressing down insistently against his in a heart-bruising kiss.

* * *

"Jude... Ju-uuude..." Robert's voice wheedled at him and Jude blindly reached out, hand feeling around for the source of the smoke-chapped sing-song and landing square on Robert's face. Laughing, Robert caught hold of Jude's wrist, gently drawing his hand from his face and shifting it to rest on his shoulder instead. "Jude, babe, wake up. We're here. Don't make me sing _the song_. Neither of us want that. Pray you avoid it; I'm serious. I'll do the nahnahnah's and everything."

"Uhmm? Whuzz – mmm?" Jude mumbled, one eye sliding open and peering around. They were still in the town car and it was much darker than Jude could remember it being when they'd left the airport. "Where's here?"

"Hotel. You melted into the upholstery right as we were pulling up to the diner," Robert said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "C'mon. I've got your room key and we stopped and got some food. You're all checked in. Smoking room and everything."

"Ohh, I love you," Jude said without thinking, leaning up to press a firm kiss to Robert's cheek that ended with a loud smacking noise, which coaxed another hearty laugh from Robert.

"Bet your ass. I'm the swellest guy on the planet. C'mon, let's go get you ensconced," Robert said, gently easing him back into a sitting position, one hand still bracing his shoulder. "You steady, dude?"

"Yeah, 'malright," he said, nodding as he rubbed at his eyes. "Bloody hell. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was so exhausted."

"Don't worry about it," Robert said, reaching up to smooth the hair at the back of Jude's head. "Jet lag is a ruthless bastard monster that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. At least we don't have to worry about getting up at 4am for workouts for this one."

Jude snorted. "Right," he said, sighing. He opened the car door and slid along the seat to get out, reaching out to pat Robert's shoulder in wordless thanks as he went.

* * *

Jude had tried to make another go of it with Sienna. Really, he'd tried. After all the tabloids had had a field day with his previous romantic trips and stumbles, he'd wanted to do things right, this time around. Presents and exotic getaways and dinner at posh restaurants – he'd even dropped £140,000 on a grand piano with a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring hidden inside it, balanced delicately on the powerful strings.

After the split, Jude found himself sitting at the piano one day – in the midst of the shambles of the house they'd been renovating – plunking despondently on the keys, when it finally hit him. There was only one person he knew who could have ever truly appreciated a gift like this.

Of course, Sienna had loved the ring, but she could barely play the bloody piano, which made the painstakingly restored instrument little better than a box for a very tiny, even more expensive gift. He didn't give a toss about the money, but …

Still. Goddammit.

She kept the ring and he signed the papers for the house on his own. Kept the piano, too, and the sight of it ate away at him, but not for the reason it should have.

He'd sit on the bench, forehead resting on the edge of the open lid, his eyes closed, and music like lazily swirling and cartwheeling October leaves drifting through his head.

Robert had played for him that night. They'd sat together at the piano, long after everyone else had gone home. Somehow – Jude didn't know how – Robert had talked Guy into letting them hang around after closing. All the lights in the place had been shut off but one single footlight spot at the edge of the stage, casting a soft golden slant over Jude's feet as he stared at the dusty floor.

Jude had sat slouched, back to the keyboard, his shoulder brushing Robert's as he played bits of this and that, whatever came to mind. He'd closed his eyes, then, too – puffed on his cigarette and let the music sweep everything else aside. His head had come to rest lightly on Robert's shoulder and his eyelids felt like they were growing heavier with each note Robert played. Jude fought the urge to let himself drift off, sitting up and leaning over to crush out his cigarette in the ashtray he'd placed on the floor next to the bench.

When he straightened up, he let his head settle on Robert's shoulder again, a quiet sigh escaping him, feeling the warmth of Robert's body through his clothes from shoulder to hip thanks to the way he was leaning.

"You're so bored right now, aren't you," Robert had murmured, amusement coloring his words. A gentle tease. He didn't stop playing.

"Terribly," he'd replied with a soft, husky chuckle. "You?"

"Yeah. I'm putting myself to sleep, here." Robert's rendition of the "I Dream of Jeanie" theme song melded into "As Time Goes By" seamlessly.

"That's a load of old bollocks. You're brilliant. You know you are," Jude said.

Robert had let out a soft, good-natured 'bah', then – a noise intended to be doubtful-sounding: doubtful not just about his aforementioned talent, but possibly Jude's sanity as well. Jude had lifted up his head, then, shifting in his seat on the bench, one leg straddling either side as his gaze was drawn to Robert's hands while he played. Fingers gathered together to play chords, flattened and fanned to reach keys higher on the scale, moving with articulated delicacy and instinctive precision, like a spider made of glass.

Amidst the Springsteen and the Steely Dan (Jude thought he'd caught a bar or two of an Eminem song in there as well, but he'd probably just been imagining things), Jude's mostly untrained ears had picked up on some selections he didn't recognize. Simple twinkling notes would launch into frenetic, beautiful tangles. There was no way those sections could have been anything but Robert's own compositions – they reflected his own moments of calm and periods of fretful restlessness perfectly.

"Play one of yours for me," he'd demanded, albeit playfully, reaching up to lightly tug on Robert's sleeve. "All the way through. I wanna hear."

"Now, that'll _really_ put you to sleep. Hold on, I think I've got a pillow somewhere," Robert had replied, making a show of peering on his side of the bench.

"Oh, _please_?" He'd very nearly whined, then, lips pursing into a pout as he stared big blue puppy-dog eyes at him. "I never get to hear you play!"

Robert had finally looked up from the keys – just for a moment – took one look at the pout and snorted. Shaking his head, he'd frowned to himself for a moment as he tried to think of a song he could play. The frown had soon smoothed itself away and he'd started to play.

"These are supposed to be strings and a bass and stuff. This'll sound weird," Robert had warned him, the fingers of one hand picking out the melody of a song anyway, while the other hand worked in the lower registers, establishing a low, sonorous tempo. He'd started to hum in counterpoint to the measures of the piano – the notes coalescing in a sort of hesitant waltz - the pace of his humming obviously taking the place of words he was meant to be singing.

"You're _cheating_ , aren't you," Jude said with a broad, scandalized grin. "C'mon, I've got front row seats, here. Don't mess about. Let's have it."

"Hmm _mmph_." Robert's more tuneful humming had made way for a resigned groan. "Okay." His fingers fell still on the keys and he took a deep breath, pushing it out in a rush. "Okay," he'd said again. He'd started again, but this time, the smoke-and-whisky of his voice took the place of the humming and the first lines had the hairs on the back of Jude's neck prickling.

Robert had kept his eyes fixed on the keys, the piano itself, looking at anything but Jude as he sang, the broken waltz accompanied by words that sounded like one half of a lazy conversation you'd have in bed. Grand dreams and boundless hope for the future paired with vows of faithfulness. The halting pace of the music and the occasional aching strain in Robert's voice leant the song an edge of sadness that caught Jude off guard. Even so, there was something impossibly seductive about the words.

" _Give me your body... won't you give me your sweet soul...?_ " Robert's voice took on an interesting element that wasn't present when he spoke. A sort of curious, not-quite-Midwestern twang was the best description Jude could think of. Strange, considering where he'd been born – a big-city boy, just like himself – but it fit, just like all the rest of the pieces. Somehow, it just did. " _Love when you take over – I love... when you take control..._ "

Just barely stifling the shiver the words churned through him, Jude had drawn in a deep breath through his nose and very deliberately let his head tip forward, forehead settling against Robert's shoulder. He'd thought he could feel the shift and twitch and pull of Robert's muscles through his clothes as he played, but he could have just been imagining things.

Robert's playing had slowed, grown that much more delicate and Jude turned his head a bit, eyes staring at the keyboard along the length of Robert's arm as he played.

" _It'll be like lovers for the rest of our lives... I won't have to run around – baby, you … won't have to think twice..._ " Robert's voice was softer, then, turning the song into a lazy sort of not-quite-lullabye.

Jude had lifted his head, stared at Robert's face in shadowed profile for what felt like days, and finally, he let the momentum of the moment take over. Resting his hands on the small space of bench between them, he pulled himself as close to Robert as he could get and leaned in, arms hooking around Robert's neck. The fingers of Jude's right hand had slid into the thickness of his silver-flecked black hair, while his left draped over Robert's shoulder and his mouth sought out the place where Robert's jawline met his throat. He'd dropped soft, nibbling kisses there -- barely enough to be felt, but there was no way it could be explained away as a slip of some sort or, heaven forbid, some kind of a joke he was trying to play on Robert – and he could feel the prickle of ever-present stubble as his cheek brushed against Robert's.

The angle had been awkward, what with Robert actually sitting properly on the bench and all, but not so awkward that Jude's intentions weren't still sparklingly clear.

Robert had tried rather valiantly to keep right on playing, but after a nip of Jude's teeth at the sharpest angle of his jawline, his breath had hitched, fingers faltering on the keys and making a shambles of his beautiful song. "Why're you doing that?" He asked, voice sounding remarkably calm and composed – after he'd cleared his throat, of course – and even then, he sounded winded. Well on the way to breathless.

"'Cause I want to," Jude murmured, lips brushing against Robert's skin even as he spoke. "You don't mind, do you?" He had to ask – he was English, after all.

"Uhh, well. Upon... careful reflection... very much no. I just –" Robert coughed a little as Jude placed an open-mouthed kiss on the column of his throat. "I just wish you woulda _told_ me you were this bored. We coulda – played some cards... somethin'..." Jude had tilted his head, pressing another searing kiss just to one side of Robert's Adam's apple and he could feel the vibration of Robert's gasped-out groan just moments before he let his head fall back, hands falling useless and limp into his lap. "Ahh! God – Jude –"

Jude couldn't blame it on the ale or even the cloying wall of pot smoke he'd been hit with when he'd gone to the loo earlier that evening. It was all him – all of him wanting Robert in that moment and being unable to come up with even a single good reason not to do exactly what he was doing right now.

"Don't say you want me to stop – don't, just don't... don't..." He'd heard his own voice saying, lips resting close to Robert's ear. More kisses, then, to his cheek, temple, hair, anyplace he could reach.

"Look, hey – I'm not – Jude, I swear on my fucking _soul_ , I'm not. C'mere! Jesus Christ..." They talked over each other, voices overlapping and jostling just like they always did every time they were together, so why would now be any different? Robert had reached up, the edges of Jude's jawline resting at the center of each palm as he leaned in. "Shut your gorgeous British mouth and let me kiss you, already..."

Jude had been laughing at the comment and Robert caught that smile in his mouth, tipped his head to one side and kissed one curled up corner, moaning softly as Jude finally caught up to him. He tucked his chin, meeting Robert half way, lips parting to find Robert's lips waiting, parting, tongue sliding and curling in deeply. He felt more than heard the creak of the groan that escaped his throat and an embarrassingly powerful shiver coursed through him as he felt the tips of Robert's fingers gliding down along the length of his throat.

Robert's lips had strayed from his after a few moments, leaving the faint sting of stubble burn behind on his chin as he pressed a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth, marking a trail that meandered along his jawline and to a spot just beside his left ear. Robert's head was a heavy, warm weight as it settled against his shoulder – he buried his face there, and Jude turned his own head and burrowed in close, their arms winding around each other tight.

They'd stayed sat there, in the middle of the darkened pub, for what felt like months – just breathing and hanging on – when Jude finally trusted himself enough to speak.

"What happens now?" He hadn't intended for it to come out sounding quite as lost and hopeless as it did, but there was nothing he could do. There was no way to ignore it – it was the perpetual elephant in the room that was on fire – this was a hell of a thing, but it was complicated because they had entire _lives_ that had nothing to do with _this_. This thing that they became – that became who they were? – when they were together. And there was no explaining it, not to anyone else. Not what it was like from the inside.

Drawing in a deep, deep breath, Robert lifted his head. Hands resting on Jude's shoulders, he very gently eased him back those few essential inches so that he could see his face, look into his eyes. Robert's expression at that moment had been impossibly hard to read. He could be downright inscrutable, when he wanted to be – it was all part and parcel of the gift that made him such a brilliant artist to start with – but the way his eyes roved over Jude's face, glowing like banked coals as they took him in, his hand reaching up to caress his cheek, Jude had no idea what to expect. Certainly not what he heard next.

"You do the same thing you do every night. You go back to your hotel and when you get there, you go up to your room," Robert said, leaning over to collect Jude's long knit scarf from where he'd draped it over the back of a nearby chair. As he spoke, he started slowly looping it around Jude's neck for him, eyes still fixed on his face. "And then, when you get there... you go to bed. It's just that this time, you'll be taking me with you."

So he'd kept the bloody piano. It wasn't the same one as from that incredible night at the pub, but he'd kept it all the same. Having it there in the house was like having a piece of Robert there with him – something essential, like his nervous system or his –

Well, the tail-end of that thought was too sappy even for him, but he still thought it anyway. Then backtracked and pretended he was too sensible to ever think such rubbish.

A few weeks later, after the junkets had all finished and they were both back home, a package had arrived in the mail from Malibu. Inside, Jude had been startled to find a copy of Robert's CD "The Futurist" and when he opened it to put the CD into his stereo, he felt a sharp blush leap onto his face. On the back of the liner note booklet, Robert had scribbled a message in black marker.

 _"For Jude – Because. You know why."_

* * *

Packing for the flight to New York, Jude grabbed a blue silk tie from his closet and a pair of neon pink socks from his drawer and tucked them in alongside his other belongings. He'd filched them from Robert's suitcase when his back was turned – on a couple of different occasions. The socks he'd nicked when Robert had visited him in London while he was doing press for Iron Man 2. The tie he'd helped himself to when he'd been sharing a suite with Robert and the lovely Mrs. Downey on Oscar night, when they'd reunited to hand out a few statuettes and shake a few lucky filmmakers' hands.

Of course, Robert and Susan had their place in Malibu, but the hotel was closer to the venue and Robert preferred having a base of operations for undertakings like that. In the HQ, he'd set up his little station (usually a small table or the coffee table, somewhere close to a seat) with his cigarettes (he still hadn't quit, despite several tooth-grindingly stressful attempts to do so), lighters, water, cellphone, a pair of sweats, a beat-up t-shirt and his Iron Man hard case with his vitamins and supplements that he carried with him almost everywhere, like a man saddled with the job of carrying around the presidential "football". From that staked out position, he would field calls, smoke, and make the final executive decision on all the various suits and pieces of bling that the designers of the night had wanted him to wear. One thing he'd made up his mind on, though – the only thing he had made up his mind on, for sure, as he'd told Jude over the phone – was that they were both wearing white silk ties.

Afterwards (after the after- and after-after parties), they'd swing by some burger joint and pick up a sack full of greasy junk food in their tuxes and brilliantly shined shoes and take it all back to the hotel and lay it all out in a spread on the silk duvet. Then they'd feast and shoot the shit and make each other laugh until all the muscles in their abdomens ached and their eyes were full of tears.

Then, Susan – it was usually Susan – would gather herself together like a responsible adult and get Robert up so that they could start the drive home. Jude would kiss her hand in gentlemanly farewell and she'd blush prettily and he couldn't bring himself to resent her and, because of that, he almost wished that he could.

Robert would trail after her like a puppy, half asleep and with his golfer's cap tugged down over his hair, the fingertips of one hand laced with hers. Prada suit in its garment bag and slung over his shoulder, he looked nothing like the dapper mad genius E! Entertainment News interviewed on the red carpet, but something about the scruff and sweats endeared him to Jude that much more.

He would lean over and kiss Jude's left cheek and then his right, make some smirky remark instead of saying goodbye, voice carrying down the hall, because there was no such thing as goodbye, with them. It was 'see you for the next one', 'we've got that thing at that place, so I'll call you, okay?' or 'you're doing that play over there then, right? Can you get me tickets?'. Never goodbye.

Jude had jumped at the chance to present at the Academy Awards. They'd been done with principal photography on the sequel for little more than a week, by then, and already he'd been starting to feel that uncomfortable itch. The Oscars had made for a good stopgap – giving him another small taste until they could find the next great excuse to run into each other or juggle schedules and itineraries to have coffee or share a meal. A night here, a night there, the occasional chat on the phone when one of them had the time.

Their lives, as wonderful and full and mad as they tended to be, were also the wedges keeping them apart from each other. Sadie had the kids a lot of the time – she let him take them on holiday now and again, but she was intent on keeping him from spoiling them as much as he'd like – but he'd also had his own hands full with Sienna, there, for a time. Robert had his Susan and young master Indio (who was growing up to be every bit the cool customer and a musician in his own right). Beautiful families that they each put so much effort into maintaining and bolstering. To hear Robert talk, it was all he could do to maintain his own equilibrium, much less an entire family's, but Jude knew the man never gave himself enough credit in the areas where it really counted.

The space they occupied when they were together usually had a very limited lifespan and they understood it. The time they had was the time they had and they never wasted even a second of it. Now, thanks to that bloody genius Joel Silver sending that script their way, he'd have three, maybe four months of (mostly uninterrupted) time to spend with Robert – no excuses necessary – and he would make the most of every last day. Together again, making this wonderful new thing, telling another strong and meaningful story – something else they could be proud of creating together and bringing into the world.

Jude was determined; regardless of what the story was about, they weren't sleeping together again. It just wouldn't be happening. And when he fell face down on the bed, duvet smothering the agonized groan that escaped him, he told himself it was just because he knew he would have to be getting up at three in the morning to catch his flight.

Of course, that was all it was. Of course.


	2. Sellin' soap...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks and flashforwards. Sellin' soap and sucking face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline on this story is going to be hella confusing, not gonna lie. It's going to be all over the place - the past, the present, the future, and the future in a completely different Jude/Robert sort of AU of the movie, but hopefully it won't cause too much whiplash!

* * *

"Welcome to E! News! I'm Giuliana and tonight, we've got an exclusive first look at Robert Downey Jr.'s new flick _Backpedaling_. He and co-star Jude Law talk with us on location in New York and dish on New York City nightlife, their fashionable competition with each other _and_ the benefits of repeat performances... stay tuned!"

After the commercials, Giuliana's smiling face popped up the screen again as she stood in the middle of E! News's sleek set, hands tucked behind her back. "Here at E!, we already thought it was pretty damn cool when actors Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law had teamed up to play crime-fighting duo Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson for Guy Ritchie's 2009 film Sherlock Holmes," she said, an image of the Sherlock poster superimposed on the screen beside her.

"Released on Christmas Day," she said, "the Victorian-era punch-'em-up flick was the perfect bow-topped way to end an otherwise very stressful year stateside. Things were pretty hectic for Downey, too, whose career had experienced a new renaissance thanks to John Favreau taking a chance on him and picking him out of hundreds of hopefuls to play the devil-may-care playboy-turned-superhero Tony Stark in the Marvel-backed film Iron Man. It was a plum role and now, Downey says, the success of those two films frees him up to do the work he likes, with people he respects, like his good friend Jude Law..."

The image of the Sherlock poster faded, replaced by a new poster – this one featuring a sky-scraping SoHo apartment building, with Robert's image in profile on one side of the building, looking intense and serious, and an image of Jude on the other side, standing before an open window clad only in a worn-out pair of jeans and a ruined white dress shirt covered with splotches of paint. He was bare-chested beneath the shirt, turning to glance over his shoulder at the camera, a lazy, seductive smile on his face and a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The title of the film, _Backpedaling_ , was tucked beneath the image, spelled out in white, battered typewriter-style font.

"Now, after the success of _two_ Iron Men movies and Sherlock Holmes with its upcoming sequel _A Game of Shadows_ due out this December, Robert and Jude Law are back together once again, but audiences better not go into the theaters expecting another action-packed, special-effects heavy blockbuster! This feature is being distributed by Searchlight Studios, 21st Century Fox's independent distributor. The entire budget for this one is the equivalent of _one third_ of the special effects budget for the first Iron Man. So why would a guy who's now making his bread and butter starring in exciting popcorn action flicks suddenly decide to do a 180 and appear in a small, serious, character-driven drama? Check out the chat we had with Robert and Jude – coming up right now! – to find out!"

Giuliana's image blinked off of the screen, replaced with a shot of Robert and Jude on a blacked out interview set, seated side by side in director's chairs, a blown-up version of the _Backpedaling_ poster set up just behind them.

"When we signed on to this project, we didn't set out to make the next _Brokeback Mountain_ ," Robert was saying, arm slung around the back of Jude's chair. He was sporting the distinctive Tony Stark goatee, having only just completed his work on Iron Man 3 a couple of weeks beforehand. He was clad in a pair of baggy gray cargo pants and a bright blue t-shirt with Lady Gaga's lightning bolt logo printed on the front in neon purple, feet tucked into black sneakers with bright blue accents that matched his t-shirt. "We didn't want this to be the next _Maurice_ or – or, I don't know..."

" _La Cage aux Folles_?" Jude piped up with a small, mischievous smile as he glanced at Robert.

"Right! We weren't playing this for laughs," Robert agreed, pointing at Jude with his free hand. "This isn't some romantic, slapstick-y, 'woops, I tripped over the dog in front of this person I really dig and then the dog farted – haha isn't that embarrassing and funny' comedy. You know? We've seen the huge, epic, sweeping melodrama and we've seen the goofy, feel-good romantic stuff and even the stuff that comes after the happy ending, where it's all very domestic and kinda faded out and sweet, but we haven't ever really seen _this_ before. This real, heartfelt story about these two guys, y'know, who just find out this thing about themselves and each other and are just tryin' the best way they know how to make it work out."

"And what exactly did the characters these two play find out about themselves in _Backpedaling_?" Giuliana's narration queried cheekily. "Definitely not what you would expect!"

Back to Jude and Robert. Jude was slumped over in his seat, slouching to the point of almost being bent in half at the waist, his arms crossed in front of him as he spoke. Robert watched him like a dark-eyed hawk, hand still resting on the back of Jude's chair. "They fall in love with each other," Jude said with a shrug. "It's this thing where – they can't explain it, they can't put their fingers on why the chemistry is there, it just is. You can't explain why that person's smile turns you on like it does or why you're thinking of this person and you just think 'god, I can't wait to see them' – you know? All you know is that you have these feelings about this person and it's incredible."

Robert smile was wide and he nodded emphatically in agreement with Jude's comment.

As Jude spoke, the image of him and Robert on the interview set was replaced with a montage of scenes from the movie grabbed from the trailer, with Jude's interview audio playing as narration over the clips.

In one clip, Robert's character Sam was meeting Jude's character Jamie for the first time – Sam looked decidedly out of place in the midst of the artsy New York party, wearing a dress-casual blazer and slacks, tie and dress shirt, while Jamie was clad in beat-up blue jeans (the same ones from the poster), black, paint-splattered lumberjack boots and a white wife-beater with a long-sleeved paint-covered shirt thrown on over it. Sam was glancing around him, looking very much like the proverbial fish out of water, when a sound caught his attention off-screen. A chuckle? He turned and found Jamie standing there, watching him steadily, looking curious and almost amused.

Sam smiled and it was a tight, almost professional expression as he moved over to Jamie and held out his hand. There were some initial words exchanged between the two characters that were too low to hear, due to a portion of Jude's interview playing over them, and then the audio from the clip was amped up to normal volume.

"Hey, I'm Sam Foster," Robert said, sticking out his hand.

Jude straightened up as Jamie, beer in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the other, and he stood, taller than the older man, wedging his cigarette between his lips at a jaunty angle as he grabbed hold of Sam's outstretched hand and shook it. Sam could see stains on the back of Jamie's hand – more paint, the same shade as the stuff he had all over him – but the smile remained in place, even if was a bit uncomfortable around the edges. Sam's smile said he thought this guy was dirty and possibly dangerous. Robert's expression made it clear that there was something about Jamie that was getting to him, already, even if he wasn't entirely sure what or how.

"Jamie Mackenzie, good to meet you," Jude said with a bashful smile.

"So do you work in construction or... something?" Sam asked, trying for some polite chit-chat as he released his hand, gesturing to Jamie's rumpled clothes.

Jamie chuckled, took a drag off of his cigarette, exhaling smoke up at the ceiling. "Fuck, no," he mumbled. "I'm a painter. Pictures sort, not buildings. Sasha dragged me here."

"Oh, you know the hostess?" Sam asked, turning to point out a dark-haired woman talking animatedly to a taller gentleman on the other side of the room.

"Yeah. She's a friend of mine. She told me I was in danger of turning into a recluse. I thought if she caught me in the middle of work, she'd leave me be and I wouldn't have to come, but she wasn't gonna let me get away with it, this time," Jamie said with a wry smile. "Grabbed the paint brush right out of my hand and told me I was coming, whether I was in presentable nick or not."

"So you... didn't want to be here tonight?" Sam asked, brow arching.

"I suspect you didn't, either," Jamie said with a knowing grin. "I wouldn't have pegged you for one of these dredlocks-and-hummus artso affairs, myself."

"Me, either," Sam admitted with a chagrined smile. "I bumped into a friend of mine uptown a couple days ago and he said he was coming here tonight and told me to meet him."

"Left you hanging, did he?" Jamie asked, quirking his eyebrow as he leaned forward again, elbows resting on the rusty metal railing.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a grimace.

"You seem like more of a martinis-and-tapas mixer type, to me," Jamie said, looking him up and down.

Sam snorted. "Thanks," he snarked back. "So, basically, you're saying I look like the boring type?"

Jamie looked up at him, eyes narrowing as he did so. "Would you like a beer?" He asked.

Sam appeared to think about it for a moment, weighing the options of keeping up the indignant front and spending the rest of the night lurking around the party all by himself or dropping the pretense and having a beer with this strange new person he's just met. "I could go for a beer, yeah. Thanks," he said at last, the slightest touch of triumph at the edges of his smile at the look on Jamie's face – strangely impressed and pleased all at the same time, as if saying 'you're surprising me, already, and I kinda like that'.

* * *

One thing he should have counted on, but had still been surprised by when they'd slept together: the laughter. Even on a normal day, practically every word out of his mouth had Robert doubling over in hysterics and if Robert's laughter around him wasn't already always the sort that made him look like a young boy at the circus, he would have started feeling very self-conscious. Like he was the butt of some joke Robert hadn't seen fit to fill him in on. Even so, during that long, amazing night, Jude was soon to learn that laughter was a part of virtually every part of Robert's life, including whatever went on in his bedroom.

So, rather than torment himself any further by wondering why, he asked.

"Why does everything I say make you laugh?" He asked, shooting Robert a quizzical look even as he loosened the knot in Robert's tie.

"I make you laugh, too, y'know," Robert murmured, grinning so broadly all his teeth showed, his voice taking on that 'nyahnyah, I gotcha back' kind of boyish tone it would take on every so often. Precious. He'd been unbuttoning the zillion tiny pearl buttons dotted along the front of Jude's shirt and somehow watching him at the same time, waiting to see if the answer came to him – as if he was waiting for Jude to just snatch it out of the air, like Sherlock seemed to do with his deductions. "You really don't know?"

"No? Tell me," Jude entreated with a smile, hand smoothing down along Robert's arms, the fine fabric of his dress shirt a caress to his own palms.

"Jeez, I – I can't believe it," Robert said, shaking his head as he gaped at Jude. "You seriously don't? Wow. Okay... fuck, there's a lot of buttons on this thing. Anyway. I'm sure this has happened to you. It happens to everybody. Think back – wasn't there ever someone you were so into that everything they said, no matter how inconsequential or boring, was just the most delightful, brilliant string of syllables anyone on God's green earth had ever uttered in the history of human language?"

Jude bit his lip. "No," he murmured, teeth still clinging to his bottom lip as he shook his head.

"Never? Oh, c'mon," Robert said, shaking his head in disbelief. Glancing up, he caught sight of Jude biting his lip. "Here, gimme that..."

"What?" He asked, teeth releasing his lip as he spoke.

As soon as Jude's teeth were free of his bottom lip, Robert swooped in, lips catching Jude's up in an open-mouthed kiss. It left Jude's head feeling woozy and cotton-wrapped. "That," he said, satisfied grin curling up the corners of his mouth as he ducked his head again.

Not content to let Robert get away with that, Jude reached up, fingers curling beneath Robert's chin and lifting his head for another searing kiss. When he broke the kiss and drew back, Robert's eyes were still closed, expression slack and faraway. "Please, continue," Jude said politely with a smirk.

Robert started a bit, eyes popping up. "Wha? Oh. Shit. Right," he muttered, giving his head a little shake. "That thing. Yeah. Okay, where the fuck was I? Oh, right." It seemed as though he'd finally come to the end of the buttons. "Jesus fuck! Please, Jude, don't wear this shirt _ever_ again, I beg you. Keep this thing out of my sight. Don't even pack it in your suitcases. Never, ever again."

Jude had already unbuttoned the two tiny buttons on his cuffs so that all Robert need do is push the shirt off of his shoulders so that Jude could pull it off and toss it to the floor with a flick of his wrist. "I promise, I promise – here, shhh," he whispered, hands reaching up to cradle Robert's face, lips finding his unerringly. He could feel Robert's hands roaming over his back, his shoulders, along his arms and his sides, almost as if he were claiming his reward for fighting with all of those buttons.

* * *

Back to Robert and Jude's interview once more, with Giuliana's voice narrating over shots of the two of them looking, by turns, pensive and amused, occasionally glancing sidelong at each other to smile or searching for support from the other in the midst of speaking.

"So what do these two real-life, long-time lady-killers have to say about the hot and heavy love scenes they share in the film...?"

"It's very technical," Robert said, making a bit of a face as he looked over at Jude, who was grinning. "It is, isn't it? It's not – there's nothing romantic about it -- _at all_."

"Truly," Jude agreed with a chuckle. "But it's just like with any other love scene in any other picture, as well. The – the players might have some things –"

" – some _parts_ ," Robert interjected with a devious smirk.

"In common," he continued, a dirty grin flashed at Robert for just a moment, "in this case, but really, it's all about maintaining the chemistry you've worked so hard to build between these two characters – these two people, really. Robert and I have both done films that have featured intimate scenes between two men, so this is just another one of those for us. It's just that, now, we're sharing the scene with each other, which is the 'something new' element, in this case."

"Right, yeah, it's all about being able to work and do this thing and make people believe it, in _spite_ of the technical elements that might stand to detract from it," Robert finished. "You know, you just kinda have to brush your teeth and stay away from the pastrami on rye at craft services and just be an extra thoughtful kind of person that day."

"Exactly. Days like that, on set, it's all about blocking out all the rest of it. You know, the crew and the lights and the big, hairy chap with the headphones and boom mic sort of looming over the bed," Jude murmured, rubbing at his chin, "and you just really have to work on focusing on your scene partner. Trying to make this uncomfortable situation … I don't know. Bearable, for the both of you."

"But that's true with everything, don't you think?" Robert asked, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair and propping his head on his hand as he looked over at Jude, briefly kicking into interviewer mode. "That's every scene, every movie, isn't it? It's all about, like, mentally erasing all the crew and everybody doing lookie-loos off to the side. Even with regular scenes, it's like that – especially if you're on location in real places, with real people all around."

"It is. Absolutely," Jude agreed.

"And, I don't know about Jude, but I thought the boom operator was _ssssmokin_ ' hot," he said to the interviewer, perfectly straight-faced. Off camera, there were chuckles from the camera crew and interviewer and Jude laughed as well, leaning on his own elbow and draping one arm over the other, unconsciously leaning closer to Robert in his own chair. "After the shoot, I invited him back to my place for some... warm milk and heavy petting."

Giuliana's laughing voice picked up from there. "So, now that this movie is in the can, do these two have any other edgy new projects in the works? Can we expect their on-screen and off-screen partnership to continue? Will we see more of these two together in the future?"

"I think we'll do what we can to keep working together like this, for sure. Yeah, definitely," Robert said, index finger rubbing back and forth over his goatee. "Don't you think?"

"No doubt. When we got this script, we both fell in love with these characters and the story and it just made sense. It might seem like, after the films we've done with each other already, that this kind of thing might not follow, but for us, it was just the next stage. This sort of natural progression. You know, this one interviewer we were talking to during one of the press junkets for Sherlock was saying that we had better chemistry with each other on screen in Sherlock than any other two characters they'd seen," Jude said with a sly smile. "Even in romances."

"Well, it's true! Some people just work together and Jude and I work," Robert said, sounding quite proud and confident. "I mean, I'm not saying that we're the next Tracy and Hepburn or anything –"

"What if I am?" Jude interrupted, shooting Robert a challenging look, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, so, _you're_ saying it? Okay!" Robert laughed, hands clapping together as he doubled over, thoroughly tickled. "Well, that's okay, then. I'll take it!"

* * *

"So you – you've really never met anybody that made you laugh?" Robert asked, tongue sneaking out to wet his own lips as he drew back, staring into Jude's eyes, his own dark and glittering with curiosity.

"Not like this. Not like us," he said, shaking his head, hand sliding up along Robert's arms once more. When they reached the firm, rounded muscles of Robert's shoulders, he drew them away, fingers starting to work on the buttons on Robert's shirt. Thankfully, there weren't as many on his shirt as there had been on his own. "There've been lots of people I fancy and lots of people I know who have great senses of humor, sure, but – no, I – I don't ever really remember fancying someone so much that I thought everything they said was funny."

"But, you see, that's why – hey, Jude?" Robert said, leaning in close, so that when Jude lifted his head to look up at him, his lips brushed against Robert's. "See, that's why. You're that guy, for me."

"Really?" He asked softly, his smile wide enough to make his cheeks ache as he tilted his head, aiming a bashful look at Robert.

"Mmm-hmmm," Robert's head joggled decidedly in the affirmative. "Make sense?"

"Well – wait – no, not really," he said, eyes narrowing a bit as he finished unbuttoning Robert's shirt. Reaching for Robert's right wrist, he cradled it in his left hand as he wiggled the cuff-link out. "I remember seeing some interviews with you and Zach Galifinakis. You were doing press for Due Date. You were laughing at everything he said, too."

"Waiwaiwait, hold the phone," Robert held up his free hand, blinking a bit as Jude dropped the cuff-link into the palm of his hand as soon as it came loose. "Zach Galifinakis? Are we thinking about the same guy here? Are you seriously saying you were expecting me to flirt with _Zach_?! Or did you think I _was_ flirting with Zach?"

"Well, I – NO!" Jude's head snapped up, eyes round as saucers. He cleared his throat, a faint pink flush appearing high on his cheekbones. "No. Well – I mean, if that's what you _wanted_ , it's not like I can stop you, is it?"

"Ahh, Jude," Robert sighed, glancing down at the cuff-link that joined its twin in his palm. Both of which he promptly threw – and wherever the hell they landed was wherever the hell they landed. He slipped his arms around Jude's waist, pulling him in close, chin nudging Jude's. "Jude."

"What?" He asked, tugging at Robert's shirt and getting it as far as the tops of his shoulders. With Robert's arms up and around his waist, it wouldn't budge an inch more and he didn't want to risk ruining the shirt.

"Jude," he said again, a slow grin sneaking its way to his lips.

" _What_?" Jude asked, chuckling.

" _Wot_? God, I love your accent," Robert said with a snigger, his own pitch-perfect British accent disappearing as quickly as it had reappeared. He stole another quick kiss before he spoke again. "Jude. Is it really so hard to comprehend that what you and I have is special? Or is it just that you maybe don't wanna think of it like that?"

"You're still a married man, Robert," he pointed out evenly, hand straying up to stroke his cheek. The expression on Robert's face at the touch gave him the impression that he was just a few whiskers and a tail shy of purring. Feeling the prickle of Robert's stubble against his palm, he mentally crossed whiskers off the list.

"I'm fully aware of my matrimonial status, thank you," he said, voice coming out so low and gravelly on the last couple of words that they were more a _sensation_ than a sound.

Jude's breath caught and hitched and he pressed closer to Robert, arms winding around his neck almost as if by reflex. Better cross 'purring' off the list, as well.

"But did you ever stop to think that even though Susan's the only woman for me... that maybe you're the only _man_ for me?" Robert asked, forehead settling against Jude's lightly as he drew his own bottom lip between his teeth as he smiled. "Hmm?"

* * *

Another interview, another channel, another town. This time, Robert was dressed in a dark purple velvet coat – quite reminiscent of something he would have worn on the set of Sherlock Holmes – a white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans and sneakers, all traces of the Stark goatee gone, replaced by familiar salt-and-pepper stubble. Jude was wearing a soft gray sweater and charcoal slacks and looked sleepy but delighted to be sitting there next to his friend.

"Sam is, uhh, he's a tough cookie," Robert said, chin resting in his palm. "He's really buttoned up and mature and he's lived this very normal, grown-up and responsible life. He's divorced and just trying to, uhh, just trying to hack it out there on his own and he's really kind of... floundering. He's a challenge, this guy. I think he's _easily_ one of the most repressed and unhappy people I've played in, like, ever."

"I think that was probably part of the attraction for you, wasn't it?" Jude asked, hands clasped between his knees as he glanced over at Robert, aiming a curious look at him. "You've made a career out of playing these wild, impulsive, out-of-control people. These mad scientists that get turned into dogs and writers who hallucinate these pulp novel visions – brilliant, drug-addicted detectives..."

"Yeah, you're so right," Robert said, chuckling. "I think that was sort of the appeal, you know? To go in the complete opposite direction for once and play this straight-laced desk jockey who's spent the last ten or fifteen years of his life, just getting up, brushing his teeth, drinking his coffee, going to work every morning and adding up these boring spreadsheets day after day after day. With Sam, it's all about the routine, you know? I think it's killing him and I think he realizes it and something in him just snaps."

"Yeah. Something's got to give, for him," Jude agreed, nodding. "I guess that's why Jamie represents this brilliant sort of touchstone for Sam. He's – I mean, he's not exactly _free_ , this isn't really the sort of black and white, fairy tale, 'opposites attract' sort of story, where Jamie's this free spirit while Sam is this stodgy, uptight businessman or anything like that. I think that's doing a great disservice to how wonderfully complex Rose's script is and these characters are. I think Jamie's just a bloke who does what he loves rather than what other people think he should do and he's been doing that for as long as Sam's been adding up all those spreadsheets. He's used to doing what makes him happy, whereas I don't think Sam even _knows_ what makes him happy, when the movie starts."

"He really doesn't," he said. After a moment, he chuckles, remembering a funny moment and crosses one leg neatly over the other. "It's like this one scene in the movie. I think it's my favorite one. They're talking and I say to Jude, 'I know numbers are boring, so tell me about what you do, instead'. The guy _knows_ he's dull –"

"I don't even think it's that _he's_ dull, I think he knows that what he does for a living is probably... not exactly something everybody would ooh and ahh about at a dinner party, you know," Jude says with a grin.

"Right! Exactly. That's what's so funny. That's at least one thing you can say for the guy – whatever his faults or bright points, Sam's at least self-aware enough to know that his career is very pedestrian, very boring. It's not like he's a lion tamer or something, you know? But then he meets this guy, who's got paint all over him and this shit-eating grin. He's really lovin' life, and … he's drawn to that. I'm drawn to it. Because, who wouldn't be? Like, holy shit, who is this guy and how can I find what he has?"

Another, different clip from the film. In this clip, Sam and Jamie were walking together in a beautiful park, side by side, Sam's hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks while Jamie sipped from a bottle of water. They came to a bench and Sam took a seat, Jamie settling down next to him. The camera panned out, showing the two of them next to each other – one neatly put-together business suit type seated upright, obviously struggling to relax his ramrod straight posture, and the guy next to him, whose clothes made him look almost as though he could be homeless, slouching down in his seat, one long leg stretched out in front of him.

As they sat there, Sam reached up and plucked the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt open, tugging at the tie around his neck to loosen it.

"So, I'm an accountant, so I know from experience that numbers are boring," Sam said, looking over at Jamie and trying to mimic his lazy posture. He leaned back a fraction, Jamie's head almost even with his shoulders thanks to his own slack position on the bench. Jamie chuckled, his smile bright and unguarded as he looked over at Sam. "So how about you tell me about you, instead? What do you do? You said you're a – painter, right?"

"Yeah, I paint, but I work with other media as well," Jamie agreed, tipping his head back as he brought the water bottle to his lips for another slug of his water. Licking his lips, he set the bottle aside, folding his hands together over his stomach. "I do metal work. I find … all these great bits of rubbish that people have stuck out on their landings and in dumpsters and see what I can turn them into. Do a bit of sculpting sometimes, too."

"Really? Wow," Sam seems amazed, but at the same time he seems baffled as to where to go with that. "Did you – did you go to school? For that, I mean?"

"Nah," he shook his head as he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, his posture unwittingly putting his entire body on display as he watched the people going by. Joggers, people walking their dogs, businessmen grabbing a quick lunch from the hot dog cart across the way. "Just always something I could do, I guess. Finding bits of things nobody wanted and making them into something new." He shifted in his seat, looking almost embarrassed, and he sat up a bit, turning to look at Sam. "There's this – there's this one piece I've been working on for the last eight months. This gigantic metal work. Sasha keeps pestering me to finish it, but … I don't know..."

"Yeah? What is it?" Sam twisted in his own spot as well, body angling towards Jamie's. "Tell me about it."

"Well, Sasha calls it the Christmas fairy, 'cause she says it looks like this humongous fairy topper you'd put on top of a Christmas tree," Jamie said with a chuckle. "But I've been calling it the Angel of Harlem. After that –"

"U2 song," Sam immediately blurted, the words coming out at the same time Jamie spoke them, causing the both of them to chuckle. "Yeah! I know it. The song, I mean – I know the song."

"I found most of the parts for it at this construction site in Harlem, so I just thought it made sense," Jamie murmured, still grinning. "Sort of obvious, I suppose, isn't it? But –"

"No, no, it's great. Well, I'd love to see it, sometime," Sam replied, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself. There was a beat, the two of them just looking at each other. Sam was realizing how caught up he was in talking to Jamie, and how surprised he was at how easy and delightful it was to talk to this stranger.

Jamie stared at Sam for just a moment before ducking his head, suddenly shy again. "Would you, really?" He asked, eyes squinting against the sun as he peeked up at Sam, uncertain.

"Well... yeah," Sam said with a smile. The first real smile we really got to see on his face, up until that point. A few beats went by and he shifted a little in his seat, suddenly starting to doubt himself, and he looked away. "I – I mean, if – I mean, if you don't want to or – or, I don't know, you don't have time. I get it, you know? You're busy and I'm just this strange guy you met from this party that you didn't even want to go to. It's okay. Y'know, sorry."

"No, no," Jamie said, finally sitting up all the way, pulling one of his hands free from his belt loop to reach out and lightly touch Sam's sleeve. "No, it's not like that. I just..."

"What?" Sam asked, craning his neck to look at him.

"It's just – I've never shown it to anybody else," he said after a moment, biting his lip as he drew his hand away from Sam's forearm. "Apart from Sasha, I mean."

"And?" Sam's brows furrowed as he aimed a confused look at him.

"I dunno," he said, frown matching Sam's. "Maybe I'm a bit dodgy on how it's turning out and I wanna show you something that makes me look like – well, like a real artist."

Hearing those words, Sam hesitated, pensive frown still firmly in place, and then after several long beats, he shifted in his seat again, angling himself towards Jamie once more. "So you're – you're telling me you want to … I don't know. What, impress me?" He asked with a shrug.

"Well – maybe I do," Jamie admitted, the tension of the moment bleeding away, leaving him smiling at Sam. It was a self-conscious expression, but undeniably charming all the same.

The scene faded out on a wider two-shot of Sam and Jamie just staring at each other, a hesitant but strangely flattered smile creeping onto Sam's face – the seeds of a curious new attraction having been sown – and the interview cut back to Jude and Robert.

"Oh, we had such a good laugh, making this picture," Jude said, grinning as he looked over at Robert. "Didn't we? I don't know what it was about this one, but I think the director, Rose Troche, had a lot to do with it, as well."

"Yeah, me too," Robert agreed, a matching smile on his face as his hand settled on Jude's shoulder. "Rose is cool because – y'know, she said, listen, I know you guys know what you're doing, you know? Jude and I have been in a _hell_ of a lot of movies, respectively, and this was a case of... okay, can you really step up your game and drop the west coast bullshit for a few weeks and give us something real? Nothing blowing up, nobody getting shot full of holes. Like, can you guys handle that?"

"Yeah," Jude said, eyes dropping as he brushed some fuzz from the leg of his trousers. "That was it, exactly. But she made it very easy to go to that place. To – to open ourselves up and be that vulnerable with each other – and all on camera, as well. She was very supportive of what we were trying to do, knowing that we'd worked together before, but in this genre that couldn't have been further away from the one we were going into."

"Yeah, like – the genre this picture's in is, like – you can see the genre Sherlock Holmes and Iron Man are in and it's like... looking down at it from this satellite orbiting the _earth's atmosphere_ ," Robert said, lifting his hand from Jude's shoulder up into the air high above his head, one eye squinted closed as he appeared to be peering down at something from a great height. Jude's husky chuckle mixed with Robert's as he sat back in his seat. "Not to say that one's better or worse, or one's more superior or prestigious or whatever – they're just _different_. They're just _so_ different."

The shot cut to Jude listening to the interviewer, nodding at the question he was being asked. "Well, that's it, isn't it? I mean, we got this script and Robert phoned me up the very next day, telling me, 'I won't do this without you' and I – how could I say no, you know?" Jude said, his words coaxing a fond smile from Robert as he watched Jude answering the question. "When the two of us embarked on this sort of … hectic, beautiful, fulfilling, mad journey together with Sherlock, we said if they wanted us to keep doing them, we would, but then this came along and it made too much sense to pass this one up. I thought that, at the end of the day, I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else but Robert and, when I thought about it and really leveled with myself, I just couldn't bear the thought of seeing anyone else getting to play these two brilliant characters but us. So it was a sort of –"

"It was a selfish decision – for both of us, I think – but for all the right reasons," Robert finished, Jude nodding his head enthusiastically. "That's one of the best things about being in this place, after big pictures like Iron Man, Repo Men, Sherlock – to be able to say, hey, listen, we found this little thing, this great script, and we think it could be something really good and something really, kind of – kind of special – and how about we do this one, now? The studios aren't _quite_ so hasty to say no as they once might have after you've had a movie gross $600 million dollars worldwide."

"I just trust this man immensely," Jude said, reaching over to rest his hand on Robert's back. "This was a picture where, if you didn't trust the other person, it just – it just couldn't be done. The whole narrative of the piece would fall apart and the story wouldn't work because the romance wouldn't work."

"I love you, dude," Robert said, impulsively leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jude's cheek, startling a throaty chuckle from him.

* * *

Another quick cut to a brief clip from the movie. Sam, sitting across from Jamie's friend Sasha at a table for two at a cafe, outside in the bright New York sun.

"Tell me what you're thinking, right now," she said and it came out sounding more like a challenge than an entreaty.

Seated across from her, Sam was resting his elbow on the table, hand poised near his mouth – he looked troubled, overwhelmed. Frazzled. "What I'm thinking right now? Okay, well, uhh – how about I think I'm falling in love with him? How about that, for what I'm thinking?"

The camera cut back to Sasha, who was looking surprised but at the same time, as though she had known all along – she just hadn't been expecting Sam to be _quite_ so honest with her.

"I don't know..." Sam began, only to trail off, eyes drifting off to one side of him to look out at the street. As he spoke, the shot cut away once more to a montage of Jamie and Sam together – shots of them sitting side by side on the rooftop of Jamie's building, kicked back in lawn chairs, beers in hand as they stared up at the stars. Walking along with each other through a used book store and having a very enthusiastic conversation, Jamie gesturing broadly with one hand as he spoke, a book cradled in the other, as Sam listened and laughed.

"It's just that... whenever I'm with him, I forget all the things about me that make me feel so small inside." The montage cut to another moment – in Jamie's loft apartment, filled with canvasses, welding gear, paints, half-finished metal sculptures. Sam is standing in the midst of the glorious wreck of a place, leaning up against the kitchen counter, sipping at a cup of coffee. As he looked up, he caught sight of Jamie passing by the bathroom door as he was pulling on a sweater, back arched, arms stretched up over his head, broad chest and naked back in full view. Sam immediately ducked his head, shifting his weight from foot to foot, seeming uncomfortable. Only to slowly look back up again, watching Jamie as he dressed.

"He just makes me feel like I'm real. Like I'm – like I'm here," Sam's voice was softer then, huskier. Another shot of the two of them, at another party, and the two of them were apart, standing with people on opposite sides of the room and chatting, drinks in hand. Jamie turned, eyes unerringly picking Sam out and Sam glanced over his shoulder at the same moment, their eyes catching and holding as a slow, warm smile spread across Jamie's face. "I've never met anyone who made me feel the way he makes me feel."

"Does it matter to you that he's a man?" Sasha's voice asked quietly, her dark eyes filled with wariness, for her friend's sake.

The party scene faded out and there was a slow fade in from black, to find Sam sitting at the table with Sasha, camera slowly pushing in on him, his expression blank. "No, it doesn't," he said softly, shaking his head, astonished both at his words and at his realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](http://rubyxdynamite.livejournal.com/1206.html) for the soundtrack for this chapter!


	3. Setups and pickups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of pre-prod prep, it seems like everybody's missing somebody. Except for Jude, who's still missing someone, anyway. Oh, and we also get to meet "Sasha".

* * *

The rehearsal space was big and ugly and Rose confided in them that it would, ultimately – with the help of the production design elves and a few indiscriminate splashes of paint – be transformed into Jamie's flat. When Rose gave them the brief and uneventful tour, it was barely recognizable as Jamie's disaster-area of a home studio: a large, empty space torn down to its brick wall skin and the wooden bones of its studs, with nothing more than a couple of large sheets of plywood propped up between saw horses to make a half-assed meeting table in the center of the space. The only other thing about the place that made it stand out was the large skylight that had been installed in the vaulted ceiling, spilling sunshine on the dirty hardwood floor – perfect for an artist's loft, because of all the wonderful natural light.

The chairs were uncomfortable, cold metal, the folding sort that chaperones would set up for a school dance. There was a room barely big enough to count as a closet – Rose explained they'd already gotten permits to knock out a portion of one of the walls and expand the space for Jamie's bathroom. Then she took them up the stairs to show them a tiny, shadowed loft space – just big enough for a bed and not much else – with a small window that cast a surprising amount of interesting-looking light through its textured, candy-colored glass. There, she told them, was where Jamie's bedroom would be.

Robert stood, hands on hips, nodding as he listened, and he stretched his leg, the sole of his sneaker gliding back and forth over the puddle of light on the floor.

"If there's one thing I can tell you – one directive I can throw at you from on high," Rose said when they finally sat down together around the 'table', a wry quirk of her lips contradicting the arrogance of the statement, "it's this: learn the script. Learn it backwards and forwards, upside down – in a foreign language, if you want. Whatever it takes to make it easier for you to retain, you can do it. Just so long as you _know_ it."

"I memorized all my dialogue for a screen test once by making up one long mnemonic device using the first letter of each word. That count?" Robert asked. He was leaning his elbows on the plywood, chin almost even with the wood surface as he scribbled in the margin of his script. Jude peeked surreptitiously over his shoulder as Rose spoke, watching as Robert jotted down what turned out to be chicken-scratchy musical notes. Jude wasn't sure if they were for a song Robert was already working on, or if Robert was simply bored – or if he was composing a song on his copy of the script _because_ he was bored.

Hearing Robert's words, Rose blinked. Jude turned to look at him and _stared_. They both did.

"Jesus," Jude murmured under his breath, eyes wide.

Robert looked at him askance, shoulder lifting in a shrug. "What? I had three months to prepare for it 'cause nobody else would hire me. I had lotsa time on my hands."

"Well, that... works!" Rose granted him, still looking pole-axed. When she'd recovered a bit, she looked over at Jude. "Seems obvious, like I shouldn't have to tell an actor to memorize his lines – especially you two – but it'll be a huge help. I wanna capture experiences and reactions from you two that are as genuine as possible, as often as possible. Give me a strong, believable reaction that's not perfectly on-script and I'll take that over a flawless line-reading that gives me nothing that informs on these characters."

"So do we have a by-your-leave to run lines together or do you want us to hold off on that until we've got it locked?" Robert murmured, still distractedly scribbling piano notations. He was clearly paying attention and following the flow of the conversation, but his ability to divide his attention between two entirely different activities never failed to mystify and amaze Jude.

"I was tempted to split you guys up and put you up in separate hotels for the duration of the shoot," Rose said dryly. At those words, Robert and Jude looked up at her, matching expressions of comical panic on their faces. She held up both hands, having a good belly-laugh at their reactions. "But hey, if you guys think you can swing this without us going to those extremes, then even better. You're playing complete strangers who discover they have an attraction for each other. We want to downplay as much of your natural chemistry with each other as we can – at the start, in any case. If you start off like... well, like _this_ – like you are now – then there's nowhere to go and we have no reason to make the movie. Get the idea?"

Jude took that in, shifting a bit in his seat, and glanced sidelong at Robert.

"Why, Ms. Troche, whatever could you be _implying_?" Robert asked, his hand settling on his chest. He pursed his lips and looked prim and affronted and.. well, very gay, for lack of a better phrase.

Rose's eyes rolled in fond exasperation as she smirked, shaking her head. Jude couldn't help but grin. The chances that Robert could use his... Robertly wiles to win this particular lady over were slim to none. She was a lesbian, after all.

"So when are the rest of the cast coming?" Jude asked, picking up a pen and tapping it on his own copy of the script. He felt it was strangely disrespectful to go about marking up Rose's script right in front of her – even though he'd already done a good job of abusing it. He didn't want to push his luck.

"We're expecting Kate in the morning. She's getting a flight from LA, early," Rose said, nodding. "Pretty much everybody else is local, but Kate had a premiere to go to, so that's why she's not here already."

"Who's she playing?" Robert asked, looking up from his script to aim a curious look at Rose.

"She's our Sasha," she said, pulling a large binder over to her. Jamming her fingers in at about three inches from the front, she opened the binder up on the casting section of the whole mess. Flipping through a few sleeves of pictures, she found the right one and slid a head-shot out, setting it out in front of the two of them. "She's from Philly originally, but she lived in NYC for a while, so she knows her way around. Great kid. Really sharp."

Jude and Robert both leaned close, shoulders bumping as they studied the picture, a smile immediately twisting Jude's lips. "Oh, she's lovely!" He said brightly, reaching out to pull the photo closer. "Her eyes are stunning."

"Don't mind me. I call her 'kid'," Rose said with a sheepish grin. "She's 33, now. She was 24 when we met, so she'll always be a kid, to me."

"She's exactly like I pictured Sasha in my head. Y'know, when I read the script?" Robert said with a smile as he looked up at Rose. "Philly stock, huh? Nice. So she's coming tomorrow? Can we go get her?" Robert lifted his pen, thumb clicky-clicky-clicking away at the mechanism that pushed the ballpoint out of the pen, eyebrow arching as he aimed a curious look at her. He wagged his thumb back and forth a bit to indicate himself and Jude.

Jude had picked up the head-shot, eyes skimming over the credits printed on the back of the picture. "Oh, look here – she worked with McConaughey," he said, tilting the picture so Robert could see the credits. "DeNiro, too. Bloody hell."

"Sure, you can pick her up, if you want," Rose said, that ever-present smirk never dimming as she looked at them. She let out a huff of laughter. "Though, fair warning, if she sees you guys waiting for her, she'll probably shit a brick. We were gonna send Andi over to pick her up from the airport."

"Well, now that you've said that, we _have_ to go meet her," Robert said with a devilish grin. Sitting up, he scooted his chair closer and cli-clicked his pen again. "We've got costume fittings tomorrow, too, right? With Shelby? What time is that?"

"One," Rose replied, once she'd worked her way back a couple more inches into the binder, eyes skimming over the schedule for that week. "Kate's flight should get in just in time for you guys to make it over to Shelby's studio. You can carpool!" She shut the binder with a resounding slam – though that was a result of the weight of the thing rather than any applied force on her part. "Andi's got Kate's hotel stuff together already and her gate information. She can email you guys what she has."

"Have Andi email it to me – I've got my Blackberry," Jude said, holding up his phone.

"Okay," she said, nodding as she scribbled a reminder for herself. "I wanted to get the fringe stuff out of the way, first. That way, as soon as we're done with rehearsals, we can just jump right in. The first read-through with everybody's scheduled for Wednesday. Sound good?"

"Yep," Robert said, jotting down some notes of his own on the back page of his script. "So – time for recess, Madame Troche?"

"Yeah, yeah, go on, you two," Rose replied with a chuckle and a wave of her hand as she sat back in her seat. "Eat, drink, be merry – for tomorrow we start busting our collective ass."

Jude chuckled as he stood, barely biting back a groan as he felt the ache in his backside and legs as he stood up from the chair. He stretched his back to loosen the muscles and then leaned over, handing Kate's head-shot back to Rose. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "See you Wednesday."

"Yep, bright and early!" Rose agreed.

Robert was opening his mouth to grant his own farewells, when his Blackberry rang, jittering across the plywood table as it vibrated, blaring a ringtone that sounded suspiciously like a track from the _Iron Man 2_ score. Swiping the phone off of the table, he looked at the caller ID and his smile took on that bashful-boy aspect it usually did when he mentioned – or even thought about – Susan. Jude couldn't stop his grin as he stuffed his own phone in his pocket.

"Hey, sugarhoneybabylove," Robert sing-songed as he picked up his sunglasses and slid them on. He grabbed his script and tucked it under his arm, threading his arm through the strap of his bag as it rested on the table and then linking arms with Jude as the two of them headed for the door. "How's my girl? Oh yeah? _Nice_! Yeah, we're just leaving. Oh, wait – hang on." He stopped mid-step, giving Jude's arm a gentle tug as he twisted about. "Night, Rose!"

Rose didn't turn or speak – simply raised her arm over her head, giving an exaggerated wave in the air. Jude chuckled.

"Yeah, Rose says hi – and bye, too," Robert said, smirking as he turned back around and started for the door again, dragging Jude out into the hallway. "So, what are you up to, babe? Huh? If he what? Sorry, love, the reception in here is for shit. Fuck. Hang on. We're going downstairs right now. Give us a sec."

The two of them hurried down the couple flights of stairs. Jude broke away, taking a couple of long steps to get ahead of Robert and open the door for him. "Okay. You there? Suzie?" Robert said, bringing his phone to his ear. He flashed a bright smile at Jude as he went through, reaching up to playfully pinch his cheek as he passed. "Oh, good. Okay, what, baby?" As they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, they found themselves neck-deep in city noise and Robert had to cover his right ear with his palm so he could concentrate on what his wife was saying.

Jude took a couple of steps to one side of the entrance, leaning against the wall as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his backpack. He held them up, silently offering the pack to Robert, but he shook his head in wordless refusal, winking at him in gratitude for the offer. Jude shook out a cigarette for himself and lit it, slouching against the bricks and making himself comfortable as Robert paced back and forth.

"Aww, man, are you _serious_? Fuck," Robert groaned, his free hand flopping down at his side. Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, he stopped in his tracks and reached up, free hand scratching at his hair. "And you're sure? _That long?_ Goddamnit. We'll be all the way done with rehearsals, by then, and into the first part of shooting!"

Drawing his cigarette from between his lips, Jude made a soft 'psst' noise to get Robert's attention, holding up his hands in the internationally recognized sign language for 'wtf?' when he looked his way.

"Hang on – ba – baby, hang on a sec," Robert said, lowering the phone once he got the okay and holding it against his chest. "Suzie said she's not gonna be here until August."

"What the – ?! Why?" Jude asked, frowning. "June's barely even started, yet! What's happened?"

"They decided to fire the writers midway into the second week and they're scrapping the entire thing! Whole entire script, gone! So now they're scrambling to find writers to replace the old ones," Robert muttered, rolling his eyes. "And so she's gotta stick around until they figure out what the fuck they're gonna do." He lifted the phone to his ear again as he crossed over to Jude, snatching the cigarette from his fingers and taking a deep drag. "Yes, I'm smoking," he grumbled to Susan even as he exhaled an arrow of smoke from his pursed lips. "I know. I just – this really sucks, babe. I wanted you to be here for when we – gah. I know. I know it's not your fault. I'm not blaming you. I'm blaming that... incomprehensible, incompetent _fuckwit_ of a director you've managed to get yourself stuck with." Another quick puff and he was handing the cigarette back to Jude with a sheepish quirk of his lips.

"Don't worry, Susan, I'll look after him for you until you get here," Jude raised his voice a bit, loud enough so that Susan would be able to hear him over the city's din. He was rewarded with what sounded like laughter on the other end of the phone and Robert grinned, reaching out to bat at his shoulder with the back of his free hand before settling next to him, back resting against the bricks.

"Yeah, that was Judesie," he said, still grinning. "Of course." His smile started to flag a bit and he nodded, biting his lip. "Mkay. Well, call me before you go to bed. And in the morning. And if you hear anything from that schmuck of a director if he figures out whether or not he can hit his ass with both hands and some helpful suggestions. Okay. Okay – love you, too. Kay. Bye." Sighing, he lowered the phone and hit 'end', stuffing it into one of the pockets of his jeans. "This _sucks_."

"Sorry," Jude said softly, holding out his cigarette.

Robert took one look at it and snorted. "You're a bad influence," he muttered, eyes twinkling with amusement.

He took the cigarette, anyway.

* * *

"Ohhh, god," Robert moaned as he lolled on his back on the bed, "I _love_ that part. C'mon, read that to me."

Once Robert had smoked his way through the rest of Jude's cigarette and half of another one, the two of them had decided to grab a bite to eat. They stopped off at a sushi restaurant (one of Jude's favorites) and then headed back to Jude's hotel room so they could put their heads together, going over the script and making notes.

"It is beautiful, isn't it? Rose has a way with words," Jude agreed, smiling as he leaned against the bed's intricately carved headboard, long legs stretched out along the bed and crossed at the ankles.

"You're being _such_ a tease right now and you don't even know it," he grumbled, throwing a pouty face at Jude. As he spoke, he reached out, one hand feeling feebly across the duvet, as if straining to reach Jude's pant leg. "Look, I know what it sounds like in my head from reading the script, but you _can't_ expect me to wait all the time it'll take for you to go and do all that voice-over stuff. Lay it on me. C'mon, please? Pretty please?"

"Oh, all right," he said, doing his best to look put-upon, although the indulgent smile was keeping the expression from being entirely convincing. He cleared his throat, flipped back through towards the start of the script and leaned his head back against the headboard, script held out in front of him. "Whenever there's a disaster or some sort of tragedy, we all feel it," he read softly. A brief glance up afforded him with a view of Robert, sprawled out width-wise on the bed, script laying on his chest, hands folded together atop it. His eyes were closed, a basking smile on his face. "Deep down, we can all feel that pain. I think it's built into us as a species. It's why some of us start crying, sometimes... without ever really knowing why. It's why others of us are plagued with bad dreams about people we'll never meet, even if our lives are – by most people's standards – happy and fulfilled."

Licking his lips, Jude paused, turned the page. "They're the things we don't have answers for – maybe because the thought of being just one drop in an ocean that's seven billion drops strong starts feeling as scary as it sounds. But it's not scary – not really. We try to shut it out with work, with drink, with sex, but it's undeniable: we all fit together, are all connected to each other, like links in a bicycle chain. So when we help each other, we go forward, just like we were meant to. But the more hurt we cause each other... the more sadness we bring, the further we backpedal. The more joy we impart, the greater level of compassion we share with our fellow human animals... the more we start to feel like we're actually getting someplace."

Jude fell silent and lowered the script, eyes settling on Robert laying on the bed just a foot or so away. As he watched, Robert's eyelids slowly opened and he stared up at the ceiling, smile broadening.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking his head a little. "That's good stuff." He rolled himself onto his side to face Jude, propping himself up with his elbow. He dropped his copy of the script on the bed and reached out, hand settling on Jude's shin, patting it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Jude murmured, ducking his head a bit as he felt his cheeks start to warm from the attention.

"This is all coming from Jamie, right?" Robert said, shifting over a little and twisting about so he was on his back again, head coming to rest on Jude's leg, using it as a pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. "This guy – he's got this life and it's all about this – just this kinda stuff. He gets to sit back and watch the way everyone else does it and decides that's not for him. He goes his own way and everybody thinks he's such a weirdo, but this is a guy who's … he's really wise, you know?" He turned his head, brow arched as he looked over at Jude.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," he agreed, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth and weight of Robert's head against him and how it made his heart slowly but surely start thudding against his ribs. "He sounds so much older than he seems. Surprised you didn't get my part, instead."

"Why do you say that?" Robert asked, genuinely wondering.

"I dunno... you've always seemed so..." he began as he sat up, doing his best to keep his legs still so that he wouldn't jostle Robert's head.

"Old?" He quipped, smirking. "Wrinkly?" He held up his hand, index finger extended, as if the perfect phrase had come to him. "Past it!"

"No!" Jude chuckled, reaching out to swat at his shoulder. Robert drew his shoulder up towards his ear, laughing as he playfully tried to bat Jude's hand away. "But... at the same time, sort of yes? I think?"

"… care to elucidate, my dear Mr. Law?" Robert invited with a slow, lazy grin as he relaxed again.

Jude hunkered down a bit further, elbow coming to rest on his knee as he rubbed thoughtfully at his bottom lip. "I remember watching you in … oh, god, what was it? It was that one – what was that one with Cybill Shepard? The guy died and came back as you later on?"

"Oh, Jesus, what is this, a pop quiz? Oh, fuck, lemme think. Was it – somethingsomething... uhhh, _Chances Are_! That was it."

"Yes, that was the one! _Chances Are_. Exactly," Jude grinned as he pointed at Robert. "When Guy called me to see if I'd be interested in meeting up with you two at Claridges to talk about Sherlock, I distinctly remember going back and watching that –"

"Ohh, god, no – Jude, you didn't!" Robert groaned, both hands coming up to cover his face.

"No, I did! I truly did and Robert... Robert," he said, reaching out to take hold of his wrists, gently drawing his hands away from his face. Even as he did so, he could see that Robert had his eyes squinched closed. "I thought you were lovely!"

"Oh, no... no! God, you just had to mention the tadpole days, didn't you? Meanie," Robert grumbled as Jude laughed and released his hands. He let his hands flop down onto his chest, draped across each other at the wrist, making him look oddly like a corpse at a mausoleum.

"You were brilliant," Jude insisted, hand settling on Robert's shoulder. His friend seemed to settle down a bit, then, finally opening his eyes to face the music, as it were. "But... I don't know. Watching you, sitting at the piano, when you were playing their song... and... and then Cybill comes in and watches you and then you looked up at her. All I could think was, Christ, he's so young, but he's _got_ it, hasn't he? He's really got it. You had all the – the presence of someone twice your age. It was remarkable."

"Thank you," he said softly, eyes darting downward and away from Jude's face.

"You've always seemed like either the youngest old man or the oldest boy I've ever met – most of the time, it's both at the same time," Jude said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well, you've always seemed wise beyond your years, to me, so... I guess it balances out," Robert murmured, a faint smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

"Have I?" Jude asked, blinking in surprise. "Sienna – she thought I was boring, so – you may have stumbled on something there."

"She said that?" Robert asked, eyes lifting to look at him, brows knitting together. "She said that about you?"

"Yeah," he admitted and it was his turn to look away. "She said I acted like an old man because all I wanted to do was stay at home and be with her when all she wanted to do was go out to all the glamorous parties."

"Well..." Robert began, mulling that information over and, judging by his expression, his train of thought was going no place pleasant. "She's a kid. She has a kid's taste. Maybe after she's been around for a little while longer, maybe she'll actually... y'know, develop grown-up tastes."

"Oh, right! Well, thanks _very_ much for that!" Jude blurted, laughing.

"No, no, no – you're not understanding me. What I'm _saying_ is that you're a taste... for more civilized palates, Jude," he said, reaching up, fingers curling around his forearm – possibly to forestall any swatting. "I've always thought so."

"Well, do _you_ think I'm boring?" He asked, one eyebrow arching as he stared down at Robert.

"I think... you're a loving and devoted father of four _mind-bogglingly_ cherubic children, a soft-hearted ex-husband and a hard-working actor with reliably good, solid instincts," Robert replied, his hand slipping down along Jude's forearm, palm settling against Jude's, fingers curling around the back of his hand, gently clasping it. "And you're just generally a … a funny, sweet-natured, darling human being who I'm lucky enough to call my very good friend."

"Who you're still... attracted to?" Jude asked, voice sounding impossibly hoarse. He could hardly believe his own ears, much less those bloody traitorous lips of his that had let those words slip out. Still – there was nothing he could do but hold his breath and stare at Robert.

Robert's gaze slid away from his for just a moment and Jude felt something in his chest splinter and grow cold with fear. But then, just as slowly, Robert looked up at him again, that painfully familiar, _certain_ expression appearing on his face again. "Hopelessly," he whispered. He reached up with his free hand and lightly ran the pad of his index finger over Jude's upper lip. "Without Watson's mustache, you look so young. Just a lad."

"You're only seven years older than me, you know," Jude said with a soft chuckle.

"Pfff," he snorted. "You're seven years younger. A whole seven years, Jude. Might as well be a lifetime."

"Starting to count in dog years, are you?" Jude teased, giving Robert's hand a squeeze, coaxing a quiet chuckle from him.

Jude had thought about it, off and on – just how entirely different the flow of each their lives had been. While he had gotten endless amounts of grief from the press throughout his career for everything from one-night stands the paparazzi had caught wind of to the horrifying scandal of him not doing up a button on the fly of his jeans, Robert, by contrast, had always lived a rougher life, even for an actor.

He'd been in and out of jail for almost two years, all told, for the repeated parole violations related to his (also repeated) drug-possession infractions. Jude remembered seeing a magazine with a cover story interview with Robert in Corcoran at the grocery store at the time and he'd immediately grabbed it. The article had been surprisingly, meticulously detailed and pulled no punches, even though it had been featured in a thick fashion magazine. It was no fluff piece, by any stretch of the imagination. Jude had read it while he was in line, on the drive back to the house – lost himself in it for days.

It had been meant as a cautionary tale, if anything – especially for someone like Jude, who was in the same line of work – but, for the most part, he found his heart going out to the man. He'd never met him a day in his life, at that point, but he knew addiction was a powerful, dangerous beast to try to keep leashed. The judge on Robert's case had thrown the book at him and then the entire bookcase for good measure. Robert had been 35 when he was sentenced to three years in state prison for felony possession. Jude had been 28 and had finally had his first bona fide Hollywood hit (thanks to the brilliant Anthony Minghella), with _The Talented Mr. Ripley_. He might as well have been a movie star on Pluto, for as dissimilar as their lives had been, back then.

For most of the people in their line of work, prison was a faraway, fleeting thing that happened to other people. If you got arrested, at the most, you'd stay in a cell for a night and then be released the next morning. In the era of Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, however, it was becoming almost _de rigeur_ to spend a night in jail – like a select bed-and-breakfast that just so happened to be a six-by-six holding cell.

Reading the article, it had been very easy for Jude to imagine the landscape of the place: blasted out, dry and stifling. Hopeless. Thinking about Robert, stranded out in the midst of all that, had been difficult. It was even more difficult now, trying to reconcile that man with the one laying next to him with his head in his lap.

Even so, you could see the way the experience had etched something into him, leaving behind something that hadn't been there before. Jude had never been entirely sure what that was and had always been hesitant to ask. It was something that they never talked about – something Robert only ever spoke about with journalists and television hosts who wanted to get his take on the latest drug-related scandal for some wayward starlet or some such.

* * *

When Robert had roped him into joining him in presenting at the Oscars, Jude had been keen to see what sort of speech Robert would whip up for them (Robert didn't trust the show's writers – not that he could blame him for that). But when Robert had handed him the bit, scribbled out on a couple of index cards in Robert's messy handwriting, and he got a load of the acerbic banter, he'd blanched. Could feel the very moment every last spare drop of blood drained from his face as he read his bits of the brief script, in fact.

"Y-you actually want me to say this? To you? _In front of people_?" He stammered. "Robert, are you sure?" He broke off, swallowing around the knot of panic in his throat, holding up his hand. "No, no, allow me to rephrase: Robert, are you MAD?! You can't ask me to say _this_. Not after that mess with Ricky Gervais. Bloody hell, the man's this far away from never working again because of the jokes he made about you at the Golden Globes! Everyone in the entire world adores you, what do you think will happen to me if I –"

It was around that time, mid-rant, that Robert gracefully, graciously and ever-so-smoothly clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, his other hand catching hold of Jude's elbow, gently keeping him in place.

"Jude," he began quietly. "Not to dismiss your otherwise perfectly valid concerns out of hand or make you sound like a 1950s housewife who's just seen a mouse scurrying across her kitchen floor or anything, but … you're being hysterical." Jude snorted, the sound muffled against Robert's palm. "The reaction Ricky got at the Globes is exactly _why_ I want you to help me with this. People took my snark afterwards as me being... I don't know, all et up with _something_ over it, even though I wasn't. You know me. You know I wasn't bothered by that. You know he ran it by me beforehand and I said I was fine with it. Right?"

Jude nodded, then, Robert's hand not budging an inch where it was pressed against his lips.

"Right. So. By doing this, I'll be taking the heat off of Ricky –" He said, only to blurt 'ah-ah!' at Jude as he reached up, intending to move Robert's hand so he could voice his objections. "I know I'm taking it off of Ricky and putting it on to you, but don't you get it? It only _looks_ that way. Which is why – Jude, hold up! –" he swiftly moved his hand from Jude's elbow to the back of his neck, gently gripping there, fingers pressing a bit more firmly as he went to reach again. As Jude glared daggers at him, folding his arms over his chest, Robert finished laying out his plan and rationale quickly and calmly. "Jude... which is why … on the red carpet, you tell them all about how nice it was, to get to stand on stage with me again and bask in my magnanimous glory and then let it slip how great the speech was. You know, the one I wrote the majority of _myself_."

Thusly explicated, Robert removed his hand and Jude promptly swatted at his shoulder. Only to have his mouth fall open a moment later as he recoiled half a step, all the pieces connecting in his mind.

"Oh ye of little faith," Robert murmured to him solemnly. Jude would have felt chastened by the words, if only Robert's eyes hadn't been alight with amusement while he spoke them. "Always wanted to use that line. Just once."

"Bloody _hell_ , you're good," Jude said at last with a broad, only slightly exasperated smile.

"I know," he said, grinning as he held up the index cards in front of him, even teeth catching hold of the top edges and biting down for just a moment before letting go. "Says so right here." Pulling the index cards from his mouth, he stuffed them into the pocket of his coat, hands reaching for Jude's shoulders and holding on. "This will be one of your finest performances, Jude. You get to show them all how wonderfully funny I know you can be _and_ we pull Ricky's goolies out of the fire." He shrugged, his smile incandescent. As if everything would always be just that simple. Just leave it to Downey, he'd sort it all out. "Twofer."

It had taken all of the willpower and composure Jude had in him not to just kiss that cheeky smile right off Robert's face, but he'd managed it. Somehow.

* * *

Thankfully, it seemed more and more that people took those troubled years for granted, forgetting them like they'd forgotten so much else. Rather than seeing Robert's name and thinking 'junkie actor who was so stoned he fell asleep in some stranger's house and didn't even realize it', nowadays, they saw his name and thought 'Iron Man', 'Sgt. Lincoln Osiris' (he was the only actor Jude could think of who could pull off such a potentially incendiary part like _that_ and wind up with even more fans because of it), or 'Sherlock Holmes'. All thanks to sheer force of will and hard work. Jude had heard rumors that Robert had even sacrificed his salary on _Gothika_ to pay for the insurance he would need in order to work on the film – quite literally putting his money where his mouth was.

The gambit had paid off and it was just one of the first few colossal steps he'd had to scale in order to finally be where he should have been all along. Back to square one and then some. Though, Jude had a sneaking suspicion that everyone was just as eager to let the past go as Robert was, because he was undeniably gifted and seeing him go arse over teakettle from such a height had been heartbreaking for anyone who'd ever seen him in even a single film. Hollywood had celebrated and so had the movie-goers: they were grateful to have Robert back, happy to embrace him again once he seemed to finally be out of the endless tunnel and out of harm's way.

"What's got you thinking so hard, with that crazy-intense look on your face all of the sudden?" Robert asked, letting out a slightly concerned chuckle. He reached up, hand cupping his cheek. "Huh?"

Jude's lips shaped into a small smile and, drawing in a deep breath, he sighed. "Just... thinking about faces... and how amazing yours is," he said, leaning over to pat Robert's chest with his free hand. Thumpthump.

"I know, I know, I look gorgeous," he said, rolling his eyes grandly. Chuckling, he shifted his head on Jude's leg a little. "No, I'm really being serious, here. Are you okay?"

"I'm brilliant," Jude said, his smile coming at his beckoning a bit more easily this time. As he drew his left hand back from patting Robert's chest, he curled his fingers in, doing all he could to resist the urge to run the pads of his fingers over the fine lines at the corner of Robert's eye. "You?"

"I'm … livin' the dream," Robert managed, squinting up at him and shaking his head, still obviously confused as to what was up with him. "Thanks for asking."

"Sorry," he said, letting out a ragged chuckle. He reached up, scrubbed his hand over his face and up into his hair, already mussed thanks to the last couple of days of traveling and meetings. "Am I not making any sense? I'm not, am I? I fear the jet lag has finally caught up with me."

"Ohh. Shit, I'm sorry," Robert sighed, eyes squeezing shut as he sat up, following the momentum forward and peering at the digital clock on the nightstand. "Fuck me. It's nearly midnight. I should go and let you get some sleep. Rose'll kill me if we're late tomorrow." He stood, fingers still tangled with Jude's as he did so, and arched his back, as if trying to stretch out some of the tired. Leaning over, he brushed a quick kiss to Jude's cheek. "Get a good night's sleep, okay?"

"I will," Jude promised, smiling as he turned his head, lips just grazing Robert's cheek as he was straightening up.

"God, it's so good to have you here, man," he said, smiling warmly as he finally released Jude's hand. He retrieved his script from where it had slid off the bed and landed on the floor, grabbed his own room key from the night stand and gave Jude an abbreviated salute as he made his way to the door.

* * *

"Hey, you there? Or are you just letting the – hey, you!" Her voice was surprisingly husky and yet as she spoke, her words took on a sweetened aspect when the person she'd been trying to reach actually picked up. "Yeah, I'm here. I'm cool. Yeah, we just got in. At least they didn't lose my stuff, this time."

Ignoring the signage, she made her way towards the exit, the fingers of her right hand loosely curled around the handle of her small rolling suitcase. She'd come through this airport more times than she cared to remember, so she didn't pay the signs any mind as she proceeded through the terminal. She chomped on her gum with a particular forcefulness; she was desperate for a cigarette. Her head was ducked low, a gray beanie tugged down over her dark hair, a pair of aviators hiding her eyes. She was dressed simply in some layered t-shirts and a soft gray hooded sweatshirt, jeans with ragged holes in the knees and black Converse sneakers.

"Yeah, Rose has somebody coming to get me soon, I think. Hope I have time for a smoke, first," she grumbled, pausing and lowering the phone from her ear to rub at her nose for a moment. When she brought the phone back up again and nestled it against her ear, she chuckled. "Are they behaving?" She carefully tilted her head, letting out a sigh of relief as she felt her neck pop. "Well, tell 'em I'll be back soon. In the meantime, give them lots of hugs and kisses for me."

Her purposeful steps began to slow as she saw the metal detectors – she was nearly out. "Okay, baby, I gotta go. I'm at the x-rays, so I gotta sign off. Yeah," her lips drew back into a soft smile. "I miss you, already, too. But at least we won't have to wait too long before you can... yeah."

As she merged with other departing passengers, Kate looked up, eyes already scanning the crowd of waiting family and friends beyond, trying to spot the little plump redhead that Rose had described to her. After a moment, she fell still, mouth hanging open mid-chomp as she squinted through her shades. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath. There was a concerned murmur at her ear. "Oh! Huh? What? No, no. No, I'm okay. I'm fine. No, I swear – I just... think I found my ride." She set her suitcase up on its feet, freeing up her hand so that she could slip off her sunglasses. No – she hadn't put her contacts in backwards. She really was seeing what she thought she'd seen. "Um. Okay, look, I – I'm gonna go, baby. I'll call you later, okay? Yeah, I promise. Okay, I love you, too. Bye."

Pressing the red 'end call' button on her Blackberry, Kate placed the thing into a bucket along with her sunglasses and the contents of her pockets and hauled her bag up onto the x-ray conveyor. She went through and then hurriedly grabbed her possessions, carting them along with her as she made her way over to a pair of very familiar-looking people.

One of them was short, one of them was two or three inches taller. The taller one was holding a sign that read 'KATE' in big letters, the letters decorated with curlicues, waves and geometric shapes drawn on with markers of a dozen different shades. The taller man was wearing a limo driver's cap, seated at a jaunty angle atop his sandy brown curls – he was looking down at his own shirt, brushing something off of the front. The shorter man was wearing what looked to be the limo driver's uniform jacket – obviously not his, since it was about ten sizes too big – and he was holding on to one tiny corner of the sign with one hand, while he fiddled with the Blackberry he cradled in the other.

"Um," Kate began, clearing her throat a little when she was a couple of feet away. "Hi?"

Jude looked up at the hesitant greeting, a bright smile flashing to life on his face, recognizing her from her head-shot the day before. "Hi!" Glancing over, he gave his friend a nudge with his elbow. "Oi. You, there. You were supposed to be look-out. Why weren't you looking out?"

"Huh?" Robert lifted his own head, looking around like a startled bird. His eyes landed on Kate and he started a little, a lopsided grin showing itself. "Hey! You're here! You're Kate, right? I'm Robert and this is Jude."

"Yeah, uhh – I know who you guys are," she said, letting out a husky chuckle as pulled her luggage along, moving closer to the two of them. "Hi. Yeah, I'm – I'm Kate."

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart," Robert said with a winning smile as he let go of his corner of the sign and stuck out his hand to Kate, shaking with her.

"Hello," Jude said, smiling as he took his turn shaking her hand. "We thought we'd come and pick you up. We've got fittings at Shelby's in..." he paused, grabbing hold of Robert's hand, lifting and turning it at the wrist to peek at his watch, "two hours – and thought you might like a lift."

"I'd love one. Thanks," Kate's own shy smile was still a bit shock-y at the edges, but it amped up her otherwise unassuming, almost broody attractiveness to dazzling beauty in the space of a second. She pulled out her sunglasses and slipped them on, readying herself to follow them out to the parking lot.

"Jude said we had to come to your rescue," Robert said as he circled around and grabbed hold of her suitcase, crooking his other arm at the elbow and holding it out to her. Blinking a little, she chuckled and looped her arm in his and then Jude linked his arm with her other one, the two of them flanking her in effortless welcome.

"I didn't say that," Jude said, leaning forward a bit to scowl at him. "I just thought that... well, you're playing Jamie's best friend. I thought it might be nice if we sort of got to know each other a bit before this whole thing gets going, right? Be good for the characters."

"Uhh, yeah – yeah! Absolutely," Kate said, nodding. The three of them, as a unit, moved towards the exit, Robert tugging Kate's suitcase along with him. "Would it be okay if I had a cigarette? I don't wanna hold you guys up or anything, but I just – I've been on planes and stuck in airports all day and I'm kinda dyin', here."

"Oh, you can smoke in the car. It's cool," Robert assured her as the doors swished open.

"Yeah? Sweet!"

"I know this great place we can go, too, if you're hungry. You like cheeseburgers?" Robert cast a suspicious sidelong look at her, as if their working relationship hinged on her answer.

"Fuck yeah, man," she said with a grin. "I'm down. I'm _starving_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](http://rubyxdynamite.livejournal.com/1385.html) for the soundtrack for this chapter!


	4. Behind the Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgers and fries with a side of banter. Shooting on the movie begins and the gang get an on-set visit from E! Robert and Jude go out on the town.

* * *

  
_"I, if I'm honest, came into this, initially, just because I was intrigued to meet Robert Downey, Jr. 'cause I loved his work and I always loved the spirit of this man I didn't know. To be honest, it started there and then. The love affair started there and then. Love at first sight."_ \-- Jude Law

* * *

"I don't know how you can stand to eat that," Jude said, looking faintly green around the gills as he stared at the concoction that Robert was dipping his french fries into. "It's – it's _pale orange_!"

"It's fry sauce! Don't hate," Robert scolded as he dipped a few of the shoelace-skinny fries pinched between his thumb and curled fingers as a little bundle into the sauce. He shoveled the drippy lot into his mouth, fingers wiggling with delight as he chewed. "And, uhh, _anyway_ , Jude, why are you mocking _me_ and _my_ condiments of choice, here? Mustard's not a vegetable or, like, some invisible, floating food group nobody made _me_ aware of, dude."

"It's greens, actually," Kate offered up, through her own mouthful of food. She was seated closest to the window, with Jude sitting next to her on her side of the booth, while Robert took up the other side of the booth all on his ownsome. "Technically." Two heads turned in unison to look over at her and the corner of her mouth quirked, the shoulder on that same side hitching up in an unapologetic shrug. "I like to cook."

"Hah!" Jude said as he turned to look at Robert, grinning like a gloating... grinner. Grabbing up a pinchful of his own chips, he dipped them into the large puddle of spicy deli mustard on his own plate, popping the lot into his mouth and chewing triumphantly, eyes dancing as he did a bit of a teasing 'I win' shimmy in his seat. Robert watched, lips tightly pursed, his own eyes narrowing as he sized up his opponent.

"You have to try this, sometime, y'know," Robert said at last, dabbing some of his fry sauce onto a couple of fries and holding them out to Jude, arm reaching across the table. "C'mon, time for the choo-choo to pull into the station! C'mon, dude, open up!"

"Ugh! I bloody well will not!" Jude muttered around his food, one hand bringing his napkin to his mouth, covering while he chewed, while the other reached out to fend off the incoming fries. "It looks like baby sick."

"Oh, come on. You are _such_ a baby. It's just ketchup and mayonnaise – gawd," Robert groaned, slouching back on his side of the booth defeatedly. He grabbed the tall soda fountain glass from the table and brought it to him, slurping at his strawberry milkshake through the straw. Susan would have a heart-attack for him if she saw what he was eating, but fuck it – the movie was finished, he was gonna _eat_. He could be a good boy later.

"You guys don't eat mayo much in England, do you?" Kate asked as she took a bite of her burger, chewing and looking over at Jude curiously.

"Not really, no. I mean, we – we have tuna sandwiches and things, like you do here, but comfort food over there is more like... curries and things. Y'know," Jude said.

"God. They put mayonnaise on _everything_ in Japan. Seriously. Like, on pizza. Big, huge swirls of it like it's just any other sauce. They even make _smoothies_ out of it over there," Robert considered his sauce and even he had to wrinkle his nose at the thought, barely suppressing a shudder.

"Ohh, god, I remember that," Kate said, grimacing as she covered her mouth with her hand, her expression matching Robert's own distaste. "I went over there to do some promotion stuff for this show I was on. They took me to this pizza place, said it was the best place in town – really popular, right? So we order this pizza and it had, like, octopus tentacles on it and jalapeños and swirls of mayonnaise as thick as my finger." At those words, Jude and Robert both let out similarly low-pitched groans of grossed-out boy glee. Kate grinned from ear to ear, unrepentant. "It was nasty, man."

"Well," Jude began, ever the diplomat, "it's a different culture and all that. I'm sure that what we're eating right now is probably just as alien and unappetizing to them. Right?"

Robert and Kate exchanged a look.

"No," Robert said, shaking his head.

" _Hell_ no," Kate upped the ante. She met Robert's eyes across the table and couldn't hide her grin as he winked at her, a smirk making his eyes shine.

"Oh, bollocks," Jude muttered, frowning at his plate for only a moment before a tickled grin twisted up the corners of his mouth.

"So... a little birdie told me something about our Miss Kate, here, Jude," Robert began, pointing a french fry at the young woman in question.

"Oh? What's that, then?" Jude asked, scooping up his own burger and taking a large bite.

"She has a certain relative who is also of significant relation to both you and I," he said, Holmesian accent coming to the fore, the tip of his fry drifting over to Jude and then turning to point back at himself before he bit the end off. The accent still sounded quite good, even to his own ears – but doing it for two movies was probably helping him to drop into it with less effort and study, now. "A rather unexpected connection, which – no doubt – you will find most surprising."

"Do tell," Jude entreated. He reached for his napkin and wiped at his mouth and, for just a moment, was almost surprised to find there was no mustache there.

"Our charming new acquaintance Ms. Katherine is, in fact, first cousins with none other than a certain Ms. Gwyneth Kate Paltrow," Robert said, dipping the other half of the fry into his sauce and popping it into his mouth. "Who I believe we have both had some dealings with a time or two in the past."

"Really?" Jude asked, immediately turning to Kate with a broad smile. "Well, I'll be!"

"In _deeeed_ ," Robert mused solemnly to his french fries.

"Yeah, he's right," Kate said with a chuckle. "I don't really talk about it, much. I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to cash in on being related to her or anything, you know? We don't talk a lot, since she's married and off in England with her family and stuff most of the time."

"Oh, right. Well, still. You've got one over on her now, anyway," Jude said, nudging her playfully with his elbow. "She's been in two movies with me and two with Robert, but you're getting both of us at the same time."

"You say that like she's _so_ lucky," Robert said dryly, all traces of the Holmes accent evaporating.

"All I'm saying, _Robert_ ," he replied, an equally crisp tone to his own voice, "is that Kate is part of a very talented bloodline and we're very fortunate to have her with us for this project."

"Of course we are," Robert said with a lazy grin as he looked over at Kate. He held out his hand, fingers curled into a loose fist. "Here, pound it for me one time, gurl."

Kate chuckled as she brought her own hand up and bumped her fist lightly against his. "Right on," she said.

"See? I'm cool. I can be the cool guy," Robert said in aside to Jude, mock-defensively.

Jude snorted.

* * *

"Hey, this is Giuliana and welcome to E!'s Behind the Camera," Giuliana said, grinning from ear to ear as she stood on set next to a large television, showing the E! Network logo. "So, a couple of months ago, we told you guys about the sexy little indie picture that Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law had signed on to co-star in together, called _Backpedaling_ , and the response was _through the roof_! You guys took to the forums and blew 'em up like nothing we've ever seen before!"

As Giuliana spoke, the television airing the E! logo faded out and was replaced by comments that had obviously been taken from their forums. Almost all of them starting with "OH MY GOD" and exhibiting extreme exclamation point abuse. "You guys hounded us day and night, wanting to know all about the new movie, wanting to hear from Jude and Robert about their characters and the amazing story written by Rose Troche. So we thought we'd do something a little special for you guys. Tonight, is the E! Behind the Camera on-set exclusive: _Backpedaling_!"

The image of Giuliana's smiling face blinked away, to be replaced by a shot of Robert coming out of his trailer, tromping down the steps, dressed as Sam, his brown suit jacket draped over his left arm as he fussed with his tie. He was clad in brown slacks, khaki-colored dress shirt, burgundy tie, hair neatly trimmed and no scruff or mustache or goatee in sight, looking very put-together and yet very strangely plain all at once.

"Ahh! They're here!" Robert cried, holding up his free hand as he turned his face away in mock-horror. "The siege has started!"

Another quick shot of the camera man walking right up and crowding right up to Jude while he sat on the sidelines during filming. They were clearly working outdoors at a proper location somewhere in the city; somewhere by the water, if you squinted hard enough at the background. Clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a soft, off-white, long-sleeved Henley shirt and beat-up workman's boots, Jude glanced at the camera and puckered his lips in a teasing pout. "Hello, America," he purred. "We've missed you."

The shot cut away, back to Robert – only this time, he was obviously on the same outdoor set as Jude, with Jude visible just a few yards away, slouched down in his chair and reading through his sides. Robert was now dressed in clothes that were a bit more casual – dark gray slacks, black Oxfords that had seen better days and a white dress shirt tucked up underneath a black sweater, the collar and cuffs of the dress shirt poking out. His short hair was rumpled, but the overall effect was a marked improvement over the more buttoned-down-Downey.

"Hi," Robert said in a peculiar voice, standing almost uncomfortably close to the camera, the shot only just catching his face from his eyes to his chin. At the very edge of the shot, Jude could be seen, still seated in his chair, only now he was glancing over his shoulder, watching Robert goof off and laughing. "I'm Bob. Uhh, look, I'm gonna have to ask you to back up a bit, sir. I'm working security detail for Mr. Law today and he's feeling a little bit artistic, if you know what I mean." Robert's hands came up into frame, index fingers marking air quotes around the word "artistic". "I think he's had too many fancy New York lat-tees, today, so he's probably going to be a little volatile and I don't know how he'll do with these cameras all up in his –"

"Robert! Stop whatever you're doing right now!" Jude called over even as he chucked a towel at his back, still laughing all the while.

"Woops! Gotta go," Robert finished with a geekish snicker as he turned and hurried back over to Jude.

The shot cut away and then there was another shot of Robert, same casual wear, same setting, though this time the shot was much more comfortably framed. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed to have dropped the "Bob Downey: Security Guy" character for the time being. "Well, we're here at the ferry terminal today, shooting some outdoor stuff while we've still got some sun," he said with a smile.

The scene switched to footage of Robert and Jude on the boardwalk-cum-gangway, a camera operator filming the two of them with a camera mounted on a steady-cam rig. Jude, dressed as Jamie, was perched on top of the back rest of a bench, booted feet resting on the seat, a large sketch pad resting on his lap, apparently working on a sketch of some sort. Robert, as Sam, sat beside him – properly sitting on the seat – hands in his pockets as he gazed up at Jamie, watching him work but more specifically watching _him_.

"Jamie takes Sam out for the day, to kind of make up for an uncomfortable situation that springs up with Sam's co-workers at this sports pub," Jude said, his words playing over the footage of the two of them working. "There's a bit of a misunderstanding and Jamie tells him, get yourself ready tomorrow, you're coming with me."

"He never tells me _where_ we're going," Robert's voice took up the rest of the story, snickering as he spoke. "He just says, meet me at my place tomorrow, we're going somewhere and we're gonna do stuff. And I'm just a _little_ bit leery but at the same time, the curiosity is kind of overpowering that reticence. I just _have_ to see what he's going to do next."

The shot cuts away to some proper film stock – footage from the work they'd done that day as it was playing on a monitor. There was a brief glimpse of Rose hunched over, face contorted into a frown of concentration as she stared at the screen, a pair of headphones on her head, and then the footage fades back in again.

Sam and Jamie stood side by side on the boardwalk, near the railing, watching the water and the sun and occasionally turning around to watch people as they go by. Jamie, for his part, just stared out – a serene expression on his face that wasn't exactly a smile but wasn't entirely a frown, either. Just a look of perfect peace and contentment. Sam, bent at the waist, forearms resting on the rail, couldn't tear his eyes away from Jamie.

"Is it –" Sam began, only to falter and fall silent, lips pursing into a fretful line as he looked away for a moment.

Jamie slowly blinked and he looked over at Sam, gazing at him wordlessly. Just waiting.

"Is it okay that I can't stop... looking at you? Because I've been trying all day and I just – I can't seem to manage it," Sam murmured, eyes squinting against the reflected sunlight being thrown up into his face by the water as he glanced hesitantly over at Jamie again.

"I don't mind, if you don't," Jamie said quietly at last, a smile curling up one corner of his mouth and it was a warm, inviting expression.

Sam straightened up, shoulder brushing Jamie's as he did so, eyes meeting his steadily, his own smile considerably smaller, but no less significant.

"Their relationship is very different. Very complicated," Jude said, leaning over to itch at his ankle as he sat on the sidelines. It had gone dark outside, but the gigantic movie lights lit him perfectly, as though it was still day. "You have these two men who've never been with another man before, never even looked at another man that way and then... there's this. This lovely sort of dance that starts up between them, and it's immediate."

"Their chemistry when they're on screen together is just through-the-roof-phenomenal," Rose said, pulling off her headphones as she glanced at the camera. "This is before they even get together and just look... incredible. Oh, who am I kidding? The chemistry's there, even when they're not on set. Jude and Robert are very special, gifted people and when they're together, the entire room lights up and the entire frame does, too."

As Rose spoke, it cut to more footage of them shooting – another location, this time. A New York city street, in the midst of Pride. Sam and Jamie were standing together, watching the parade go by. Sam was standing on the curb, just behind Jamie, while Jamie was standing on the pavement just behind the barricade. Sam's folded arms rested on Jamie's shoulders and the two of them watched, bemused, as the floats went past.

"They asked us to come today and be masters of ceremonies for Pride this year," Robert said, his grin incandescent as he spoke to the camera, the parade still marching on just behind him. "How cool is that? I don't know. I guess they heard about the movie or saw us at the Oscars and thought we'd make for highly average presenters for this modest little festival of theirs."

The shot cut away again, this time with Jude and Robert standing side by side just behind the barricade, Jude's arm wound around Robert's waist and Robert's hand in its usual spot on Jude's shoulder. Jude was wearing a rainbow lanyard with his 'guest' pass clipped to it and Robert had one to match, though Jude had a necklace made up of rainbow-colored beads around his neck along with his lanyard, like the sort one would find at Mardi Gras. "We were very flattered, weren't we? Rose came to us with the idea of shooting a bit of stuff here during the proceedings and we thought, what better way to add another layer to this story?"

"With these guys, see, they're still thinking like straight dudes," Robert said, laughter coloring his words. He turned, gesturing to the crowd. "They're thinking, that's so not us – we don't look like that, we're not wearing neon purple spandex go-go shorts and belts made out of handcuffs. This isn't us!"

"In a way, they're right," Jude said with a grin. "They're not flamboyant or clubby types, really, are they?"

"No," Robert shook his head. "Sam's too old for that stuff. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he is. But maybe, uhh... maybe with some help from his new friend, his outlook will start to lighten up a little." He arched his eyebrow, aiming a speculative look at Jude.

"Could be... could be," Jude granted with a snicker. "But, really, the timing couldn't have been better. The weather's been beautiful. Everyone we've met today has been just so lovely and supportive. Meeting all these delightful gentlemen and ladies today really clinched it for me, you know? I'm doing this for them. I wanna do this right, so they can go and see this film and come away from it saying 'yes, this is something I recognize, this is a story that speaks to me'."

"Right. We don't want them to walk away saying, 'what the hell was that? That's not what our lives are like!'. We don't want them pissed at us because we got it wrong, but that's what why we've got Rose," Robert finished with a quirk of his lips.

"It's true. She's very conscious of that. She didn't want us to be flapping about, lisping all over the place and talking about fabulous antiques and our precious labradoodles," Jude said, chuckling. At those words, Robert cracked up, leaning his forehead against Jude's shoulder. "We're doing everything we can to fight stereotypes. These are two regu – well, no, I wouldn't say they're regular or –"

"Or normal, right. You _are_ a bit of a weirdo," Robert said, having lifted his head up from Jude's shoulder, twiddling his fingers, only to sketch quotation marks in the air a moment later. "He's an artist, so he's the eccentric one. I'm the 'normal' one, this time. How's that for a switch?"

The interview footage from Pride cut away to a shot of Robert and Jude taking the stage at the opening ceremony prior to the official kick-off of the parade. As usual, Robert had insisted on them making a grand entrance, and they stepped out together, hand in hand, as the familiar strains of Lady Gaga's "Alejandro" thumped and slinked from the speakers. Each of them carried a microphone in their other hand as they strode out to nearly deafening applause and catcalls of approval.

Robert and Jude looked at each other, trading wide grins with each other, and Robert looked out at the crowd, lifting their joined hands up over their heads, while holding his other arm out at his side in a theatrically grand pose. Jude beamed, looking handsome in his Jamie costume – composed of a sleeveless, snug-fitting white t-shirt and beat-up jeans, much like the comfortable clothes he favored in his personal life – while Robert looked casual but dapper in a pair of faded jeans, a white v-necked t-shirt, a dark gray waistcoat and sneakers. The both of them were wearing sunglasses, but as they stepped out together and the roar of the crowd had started to subside, Jude reached up and slipped his sunglasses off with his mic hand, setting off another round of hoots and hollers. He looked over at Robert, who was laughing heartily, the sound very nearly drowned out by the crowd.

When he'd finally settled a bit, Robert turned his attention to the crowd once more, removing his sunglasses with a particularly Tony Stark-esque flair, which sent the crowd into another tizzy. Finally lowering their joined hands, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hey... Jude?" He asked, looking over at him. The cheers broke out again, though softer, now. They were desperate to hear what they both had to say.

Jude brought up his own microphone, still grinning as he looked over at Robert. "Hello, _Roberto_ ," he said, his accent taking on a bit of a Spanish flare as he pronounced the name in a deep, silky voice, rolling the R perfectly.

"You're lookin' _good_ today, honey," Robert said, making a great show of looking him up and down. "Doesn't Jude look freaky hot today, New York? Lemme hear it!" Apparently, the crowd agreed with Robert and there were hearty shouts and wolf whistles rising up from the throng of people.

"Ahh, thank you. You, too," Jude said, huffing bashful laughter into the mic. "Robert looks quite handsome, doesn't he?" Robert stood with impeccable posture, reaching up to adjust his waistcoat, holding his hand out as if to say 'what do you think?'. Once more, the audience launched into excited cheers.

"So, hey, listen – let's get down to brass tacks here. The people of the beautiful city of New York were looking for somebody to act as master of ceremonies for this here Pride parade thing that you guys throw every year," Robert said. Every time there was a pause in Robert's speech, no matter how brief, there was another round of happy hollers and applause. "For some crazy reason, they came to me and said 'hey, Robert, we know you're in New York 'round about then, so how would you maybe like to show up and say hey and kick things off for us right'? And I said... guys, I'm gonna do you one better! My good friend Jude is gonna be with me, then, 'cause we're workin' on this movie thing and maybe we could go and kick this Pride thing off TOGETHER? Because this is MY town, I love being here, and there's nothing I'd love more than to show up and hang out with all these cool, outrageously fashionable people."

It was a good minute, maybe two, before the crowd settled down enough so that either of them could speak and count on being heard. Chants of "N-Y-C! N-Y-C! N-Y-C!" filled the air and Robert pumped his microphone in the air, smiling like he never wanted to stop.

"And when Robert asked me," Jude said, hooking his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt, "I said there was no way I was ever gonna miss this. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I wasn't going to let it pass me by, because even though this isn't where I come from, I still love visiting here, I did a play here a while back on Broadway and I just – I love this place. I truly do."

"Right! So, guess what? Consider this the official kick-off of New York's 2011 Pride parade!" Robert yelled into the microphone. Another almost deafening cacophony greeted his pronouncement and Robert couldn't help but laugh, letting go of Jude's hand just long enough to slip his arm around Jude's waist and pull him in close to his side. He could feel Jude's arm draping itself around his shoulders and his face was aching from the joy but he didn't stop smiling, not even for a moment. "So, hey, check it out – we're actually gonna be around today, doing some filming for this thing we're working on, so don't mind us, okay?"

"Be safe, have fun, be responsible and don't forget your sunscreen, 'cause it's bloody hot out here!" Jude put in, leaning his head against Robert's. At Jude's comment, there rose up a few shouts of 'take off your shirt, then, sexy!' and 'you're so hot!' from the crowd, making them both laugh.

"We love you, New York!" Robert said. "Party hard, just – not as hard as I used to, okay?"

Jude drew back enough to give Robert a nudge in the ribs with his elbow, which caused Robert to flinch playfully. "C'mon, you, we've got a movie to get on with," he said into his microphone, laughing even as he spoke.

"Yes, dear," he said, speaking into his own mic, still grinning like a fiend.

* * *

They'd turned up at around seven o'clock that evening, with the day's shooting in the can well ahead of schedule. Rose had been feeling generous and had decided to let them go early. When they arrived, Robert's eyes immediately were drawn to the stage, where the house band was playing some kind of song Jude didn't recognize. Robert must have caught the puzzled look on his face and confided that it was some sort of bastardized honky-tonk/country-and-western something mixed with a bit of jazz for fun. His eyes lingered over the keyboard sitting untouched off to one side of the stage, fingers working with a pervert's covetous twitch, drumming on the table top as he listened.

"Ohh, man, this is great – is that Hank Williams? – fuckin' awesome," he muttered even as he dug into his pocket, fishing out a mostly empty blister pack of Nicorette gum. There was one piece left and he looked inordinately grateful for it as he popped it out of its little plastic home and into his mouth. He chewed with relish, thumb drumming along with the beat of the music.

In spite of himself, even though he was with Robert, Jude felt a little bit lost, in more ways than one – the place was a hole in the wall that they'd never been to before, the music was very alien to his ears and the patrons seemed quite a bit rowdier than he'd expected. The place was full of smoke, stank of stale beer and Jude was fairly certain his shoes were now stuck to the floor.

It sounded as though the song was winding up and Robert sat up a bit straighter in his seat, biting his lip. He glanced quickly over at Jude and then away again, fingers drum-drum-drumming on the table.

"Go play," Jude said, rolling his eyes fondly. He could tell that the keyboard was calling to Robert and he wasn't about to try to stop the man from doing what gave him such obvious joy.

"What? Oh. No, they – they probably wouldn't … you think?" Robert asked, looking over at him, brows furrowed behind his glasses.

"Doesn't hurt to ask," he said with a shrug, smiling as Robert looked back at the stage, lips pursing. "Worst thing that happens is they say no, right?"

Robert nodded. "Yeah. Okay, I'm goin' up. I might be right back or I might... not be right back," he said as he stood up, casting an almost coquettish grin in his direction, reaching out to squeeze Jude's shoulder briefly before he disappeared.

He watched Robert wind his way through the awkwardly-spaced tables, slipping behind chairs and dodging elbows, and finally made his way to the low lip of the stage just as the band was finishing their song. Robert stepped close to the edge of the stage, said something to the guitarist in front to catch his attention and crooked a finger at him to come closer. The man immediately recognized Robert, a welcoming, if shocked, smile lighting up his face as he reached down and shook Robert's hand, the musician clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. Robert pointed up, at the keyboard sitting in the corner, then to himself and then the guitarist and then holding his hand out, making the whole conversation a very interesting sort of pantomime.

The guitarist glanced over at the keyboard and then back to Robert, slapping at his shoulder amiably as he released his hand, waving for him to come up. Robert twisted around, eyes seeking out and finding Jude and giving him two thumbs up, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning before wheeling about and running up the small set of steps leading up to the stage.

Crossing over to the guitarist but keeping outside of the main center spotlight, Jude could just barely see Robert as he beckoned the guitarist over. Robert had apparently called to order a brief pow-wow with the band, moving close to the drum kit so that he could speak with the drummer as well, the drummer leaning precariously over his kit so that he could hear what Robert was saying. There were some nods exchanged and Robert looked over at the guitarist, hand hovering at his mouth, hesitant, as he seemed to suggest something, waiting to see what the man had to say. It was his band, after all. The guitarist nodded and looked to the drummer, who nodded at Robert in turn. Robert clapped his hands together, smiling and hopped up onto the dais the drummer's equipment was set up on, giving the man a brief but vigorous handshake.

Sitting himself down at the keyboard, the position was lost in a pool of darkness, the lack of keyboardist that night not necessitating a spot. Jude squinted, trying to see Robert, but the only thing he could really catch sight of were the bright neon green reflective strips on his sneakers. While Robert flexed his fingers and made himself comfortable behind the keys, the guitarist had straightened up and gotten himself a sip of water before addressing the crowd, who were rapidly growing restless due to the lack of music.

"All right, folks. All right, now. Sorry about that pause. Just needed to wet my throat a little. Y'all know how it is," the guitarist said into the mic, rousing a half-sleepy cheer from the middle of the crowd. He chuckled and held up a hand in a quick wave. "So it looks like we got ourselves a fella who wanted to sit in for a song or two! Showed up in the audience just a few minutes ago and he thought that old keyboard over there was lookin' lonely, so he wanted to love on her a little. Y'all give this man all your love, now, 'cause he deserves it. Give it up for Mr. Robert Downey, everybody! Buster, get a spotlight on our boy!"

The light man did as he was bade and soon, a gold-colored spot was opening up like the sun, revealing Robert sitting at the keyboard, fiddling with the controls. Jude had lifted his hands up over his head, clapping loudly and enthusiastically along with the rest of the crowd, slipping his index fingers into his mouth, a loud, ear-splitting whistle sneaking out between his fingers. Robert gave a quick wave with one hand, flashing a peace sign at the crowd before returning his attention to the keyboard. He finished his adjustments and then caught the guitarist's eye and with no announcement of the next song, no hesitation or preamble, they launched right into the song.

The melody burst forth from Robert's keyboard, immediately paired with simple strums of guitar and a glimmering crash of the cymbal, the drums kicking off the song's quirky, almost conversational start-and-stop tempo.

"This might sound a bit crazy, but I can't help but say it –" Robert sang, lips just grazing the mic as he leaned in, fingers moving with effortless quickness over the keys. When he paused the audience broke out into approving hoots and catcalls and he grinned broadly. He rocked from side to side slightly, one foot resting on the floor, the ball of his other foot pressed to the floor, "I'll tell you what I saw and you tell me what you think –"

Jude felt a matching smile on his own face as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on tabletop where he was seated, head nodding along to the beat as he watched Robert.

"This A-M, after breakfast, I was cruisin' past the sidewalk exit of... the store where you work every mornin' –" Robert finished the phrase, rousing another roar from the crowd. Wonderfully loud, considering the size of them. Twisting a bit in his seat, Robert squinted as he searched for Jude in the crowd, finding him easily, and threw a wink his way, mouth twisting into a broad, bright smile before he turned back to the mic, chomping on his gum in between lines and looking blissfully in his element.

"And this blond-haired boy with his trumpet toy and his new shoes on, and your hair was long – you were... flippin' it left and right as you worked..." Robert lifted one hand up from the keyboard, briefly flipping back long blond locks he didn't have before his hand returned to the keys. "He was sayin' things, you were listenin', you were talkin' back – you thought I didn't see that, but... baby, everybody's always said I had eyes behind my head..." That same hand darted up from the keys again, Robert smacking at the back of his own head briefly before he went back to playing, the gesture coaxing a chuckle from Jude.

"I held you in close up, I held you in close up –" Robert's voice tackled the higher notes with ease, though there was still a bit of lingering gravel in his voice that made the hair on Jude's arms prickle up. "I didn't want to get too excited, was invited to the party so I … didn't come in..."

* * *

Robert had played a couple more songs with the band before bowing his way off the stage, half sprinting and half skipping his way back to the table. He flung himself down into the seat next to Jude with a breathless laugh, nearly tumbling into Jude's lap from the momentum. Jude's hands shot up, immediately reaching to grab hold of Robert's shoulders and steady him, startled laughter erupting from his own throat as he righted his friend in his chair.

"Oh, that was fun," Robert sighed happily, the beatific expression on his face belying his understated words, immediately reaching for the glass of water that Jude had ordered. He brought it to his lips, slugging down half the glass before he spoke again, the back of his wrist making for a good napkin as he glanced over at Jude. "God, that was fun."

"You sounded excellent!" Jude said, grabbing hold of his shoulder and playfully jostling him a moment before he hooked his arm around Robert's shoulders. "They really loved it."

"Did you?" He asked, dark eyebrow sliding up as he settled back in the chair, glass still cradled to his chest, teeth nipping at the straw that had somehow managed to stay inside the glass. "Give me your honest opinion."

"Loved it," Jude replied, grinning until he felt he'd get a cramp in his cheek muscles. He didn't even know if such a thing was even possible but it wouldn't have surprised him. "Was that one of yours?"

"The first song? No. But I heard it a while back and taught myself how to play it. That's one I'd never done in front of anybody before," Robert said, shoulder twitching up in a quick shrug. He broke out in a grin again. "You really liked it?"

"Absolutely. I'd never lie to a man who takes his music so seriously," Jude said with a chuckle, though the look in his eyes was perfectly sincere.

"Good," Robert said, reaching out, hand clapping on his leg smartly. He glanced up at the stage and then back at Jude, biting his lip. "Hey, the guys were wondering if we wanted to hang out after close. Y'know, just sit around, tell tall tales, play some more music. You wanna stick around?"

Seeing the way that playing and being around other musicians seemed to feed Robert in a way he couldn't be fed any other place or any other way, of course, Jude said yes.

After the place had cleared out, leaving just the few bartenders and waitresses cleaning up and a few hangdog drunks lingering at the bar, Robert and Jude joined the guys in the band up on the stage. Amidst the clinking of glasses and sound of chairs being upended onto their tables, Robert introduced him to them all like they were old friends, hand settled warmly in the middle of his back.

They sat together on the bench, the rest of the band huddled around them on stools as they sat at the keyboard, the drummer hanging on to his sticks, the guitarist cradling his beloved in his lap and idly strumming at her strings. Jude sat, watching, hands folded together in his lap as Robert chatted with the men, laughed and cadged cigarettes off of the drummer, tapping ashes into a tiny glass ashtray he'd sat on the control panel of the keyboard. He draped his arm on Jude's shoulder, leaning in to him slack-boned, apparently the rush of the evening and the long day's work had started to sink their teeth into him, but it was obvious he was going to go until he couldn't go anymore.

All that Jude could think, as he gazed at Robert – watching him chuckle, give high-fives to each member of the band, tapped out an Elvis tune idly on the keyboard with those nimble fingers of his as he spoke, spun meandering, amusing songwriting yarns and drinking glass after glass after glass of ice water with a single twist of lime floating in them – was:

 _I love you...I'm so in love with you..._

* * *

November, 2009

 

Jude was sprawled on his back, sheets draped over both of them, tangled about their legs, and his fingers were digging into the flesh of Robert's upper thigh and a spot just over his left shoulder blade. Something inside him was shaking loose and he had no idea what it was, because, in truth, it felt like everything was. Eyes squeezed shut, he lifted his head from the pillow, mouth blindly seeking, and he couldn't help the soft grunt of gratitude that worked its way out of him as Robert's mouth settled over his. He felt the warmth of Robert's hand on his cheek, stroking there, coaxing him gently back down, his head nestling into the cradle of the pillows once again.

Thankfully, Robert followed him down, lips never leaving his for even an instant. Head slowly canting to one side, he deepened the kiss, sinking into it and into Jude even as he sank down onto him. The movement was just as deliberate as the kiss, but it sent hungry shudders through the both of them. Jude's lips parted involuntarily at the tremors creeping up his spine and he gasped, hot breath feathering over Robert's lips as he softly panted.

The bed creaked as Robert moved, ever so carefully, weight balanced on his knees and forearms as he arched his back, using the powerful muscles in his legs to steady himself as he eased off and then sank back down again, a thin, plaintive moan escaping his throat.

They were pressed against each other from shoulder to pelvis, the fingers of Robert's let hand tangled in Jude's hair, the other stroking his face, his throat, his chest, anywhere he could reach as he moved. Distantly, hazily, the thought had occurred to Jude that, in the dark of the hotel room, Robert was essentially blind, so it was almost as though Robert was trying to commit every inch of him to memory by touch alone. His skin, the strange, new bareness of his upper lip, which Robert suckled on, like a puppy trying to learn what something was by mouthing on it, the smoothness where there had been proper Victorian sideburns only a short few days ago. His long, deft fingers traced the edge of Jude's jawline, down to his chin, even cataloging the ridges and swirls of his ear, which felt impossibly hot, flush with blood fire.

Jude shifted his grip, hand sweeping up along the length of Robert's body, following the lean, tight band of his thigh, the taut curve of his hip and the lush firmness of his buttock. His hand glided up along his back, feeling the muscles there shifting and bunching together as Robert rose up again, and he clutched at Robert's shoulder. He gave a gentle tug at that hand hold, pulling Robert the rest of the way down, feeling a hard shiver course through him as his hardness was caught between their bodies. Robert sank down again, his whimper muffled against Jude's lips even as Jude gently guided his head to one side, cheek very nearly resting against his shoulder as they kissed. Always kissing.

The rhythm of Robert's movements against him became more insistent by the moment, even though the pace remained almost agonizingly glacial. Jude could feel the fitful tension gathering in Robert's muscles as his hands caressed his back and shoulders, skimming over his sides, fingers carding gently through his wild hair. Robert's kisses were growing sloppier, wetter, mouth clinging to his like he needed it – like he'd never needed anything else, like there was never any other addiction but this, that there never could be anything else in the world, but this.

 _There's nothing of interest, for me... out there, on earth... at all..._ Only this.

Robert's mouth broke away from his on a gasp and he settled his forehead against Jude's, the two of them breathing each other's breath, panting against one another's cheeks as they clung to each other. All of that built up energy, all that momentum, had to go somewhere, had to do something.

"Jude, I – ahhh!" Robert began, only for his next words to be interrupted by a sharp cry, body pressing close and hard against Jude's, the telltale hot spatter against Jude's stomach as he came. He buried his face in the hollow of Jude's shoulder, all of the carefully banked energy forcing itself from him in wave after wave of bone-deep shudders, all the muscles hidden beneath the warm skin Jude's hands rested on jumping and spasming fitfully.

Robert's inner muscles clamped rhythmically around Jude's cock, milking it in relentless pulses, and Jude's body gave him no other choice but to follow soon after. Arms grappling at Robert's shoulders, clinging to him close and tight, he pressed his face against Robert's neck, resisting the urge to bite, though only just, as he felt the seemingly unending pulses of his cock inside Robert's body. Robert slipped his own arms underneath Jude, holding him close as Jude rode out each nerve-jangling wave as it rushed over him.

When the last of the aftershocks had started to taper off, the two of them were left trembling and clutching each other. Drowning men, the both of them.

It was only when Robert lifted his head – moving far more slowly, now, as though his head had somehow, suddenly, become twice as heavy as it had been earlier – and started dotting exquisitely tender kisses on his face and throat that it felt as though Jude's lungs finally wanted to take in air again.

Not drowning, then. No, not after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here](http://rubyxdynamite.livejournal.com/1738.html) for the soundtrack for this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written RPF before. Not a day in my life. In point of fact, I used to feel really squidgy and uncomfortable about RPF... and then RDJude came along and, like someone here said, they basically ship themselves. So yeah. They make it too easy and too tempting and I just couldn't resist. I'm weak, I have no will power, what can I say? Also, I have a _huge_ kink for musician!RDJ, as you will see. The title of the fic comes from "City Noise" by Scarling.
> 
> [Click here](http://rubyxdynamite.livejournal.com/820.html) for the complementary soundtrack listings.


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